fiaflffltiiifliiifliiiiiiii)iiiiiitiiHii(iiH.'iiiiiiiiiiiii[Hii[iiiimiiiiiiii[ii[i 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


\no. 


jg^cnry  ^uit  bmbr3:>  fc^'jjj^ 


THE 
SUEFACE    OF    THINGS 


CHARLES   WALDSTEIN 


BOSTOX 

SMALL,    MAYXARD    &    COMPAXT 

M  r>c  CC  XCIX 


CopyrigJd,   1897, 
By  Morrifi  Mauge.s. 

Cojpyriijld,  1899, 

By  SnialJ,  Maynard  tt-    Company. 

Incorporated. 


The  liockwell  and  ChvoxMll  Press 
Boston,    U.S.A. 


iO/^  s 

PREFACE 

For  recii^ons  ivliicli  appear  cogent  I  have 
decided  to  pnhliKh  over  my  oimi  name  the 
three  stmnes  here  collected  into  one  vohime. 
They  had  appeared  separately  in  England 
over  tlie  psendonyrii  of  Gordon  Seymour. 
My  intention  was,  inhen  issnijig  these  short 
stories  separately,  to  make  them  the  first  num- 
bers of  a  collection,  vh/'ch  I  called  the  Ethics 
of  the  Surface  Series,  and  I  prefixed  to  the 
first  volume  an  introductory  essccy  on  the  char- 
acter and  scope  of  the  series. 

One  of  the  chief  reasons  which  led  me  to 
adopt  a  pseudonym,  becomes  manifest  when  I 
am  cd)out  to  reprint  the  original  introduction. 
The  whole  tone  of  that  introductiou  (of  the 
stories  as  v^ell)  is  completely  changed  when 
once  I  put  my  name  to  it.  When  I  published 
it  I  urns  able  to  suppress  my  personality,  and 
I  wrote  under  the  shelter  of  a  pseudonym 
which  seemed  to  spread  a  simple  and  f resit 
shade  of  good  taste  over  cdl  I  might  say  about 
m,yself  or  my  worl^.  Under  cover  of  a  ficti- 
tious personality  I  could,  for  instance,  irith- 

y 


LIBRARY 


PREFACE 


out  hesitation  and  witJioiU  dango'  af  incur- 
ring the  charge  of  personal  vanity ,  puhlish  the 
terms  of  commendation  expressed  by  a  liter- 
ary friend  on  these  stories  and  the  general 
idea  contained  in  the  series. 

The  whole  position  is  entirely  altered  udten 
once  the  author  and  the  man  appear  insepa- 
rably joi7ied  in  the  work  put  before  the  public. 
There  is  then  a  constant  menace  to  good  taste 
and  sincerity  on  the  part  of  the  author  and 
the  public,  in  that  he  should  appear  to  obtrude 
his  personality  in  the  work,  and  tJie  public  be 
encouraged  in  the  vice  of  undue  curiosity  and 
the  confusion  between  the  professional  and 
private  aspects  of  life. 

TJiis  suggests  a  general  question  of  serious 
import  in  the  life  and  7vorh  of  men  of  letters, 
of  science,  and  of  art.  Nay,  we  may  classify 
these  jjrofessions  from,  th  is  po hit  of  v iew ,  i.e., 
as  the  vocation  itself  tends  to  blend  or  to  dis- 
sociate the  person  and  his  irt>rl\  The  man 
of  science  is  thus  least  hampered  by  the  fear  of 
the  inopportune  obtrusion  of  his  personcdity ; 
while  at  the  other  end  of  the  scale,  the  artist, 
for  instance  the  actor,  must  find  it  most  diffi- 

vi 


PREFACE 


cult,  if  not  impossible,  to  Iceep  Ids  pevsonalitij 
from  the  gaze  and  criticism  of  the  2>ublic. 

Science  is  in  its  very  essence  intellectual, 
objective;  the  man  of  science  must  above  all 
eliminate  the  persoyial  equation  from  his  work 
in  order  to  arrive  at  the  establishment  of  trufji 
upon  whicli  all  his  efforts  are  concentrated. 
Art  is  essentially  emotional,  subjective;  the 
artist,  even  when  he  deals  loith  nature,  with 
outer  facts,  must  give  these  as  theg  are  re- 
fected through  his  personality,  and  from  this 
very  personal  rendering  his  woi'k  receives  its 
unity  of  structure,  its  organic  vitality. 

Tims  a  scientific  or  historical  author  is  in 
no  danger  of  having  his  jjersonality  and  life 
encroached  upon  by  the  reader  of  his  -works, 
and  the  thought  of  this  jjossibility  need  never 
disturb  the  concentrated  flow  of  his  creative 
effort. 

In  the  domain  of  art  (and  herein  1  include 
literature  as  such,  poetry  and  fiction)  the  case 
is  changed.  But  here,  too,  there  are  different 
degrees  of  personal  obtrusion  witliin  the  sev- 
eral artv^tic  vocations.  Thus  there  is  a  broad 
and  convenient  distinction  betiveen  the  v:orh 

vii 


PREFACE 


of  the  productive  and  that  of  the  reproductive 
artist  —  file  p)oet  and  the  actor,  tJie  composer 
and  the  lausical performer . 

In  tJie  reproductive  arts  the  peifoi'rner  not 
only   conies  himself  before  the  public,    to   be 
seen    and  heard,   but  the  essence  of  his  art 
depends  upon  the  acutelt/  personal  rendering 
of  the  work,  u:hich   inivnediately  evokes  com- 
parison with  the  personal  rendering  of  other 
perfovmers,  and  criticism  is  generally  based 
upon  such  comparison.      This  is  so  much  the 
case  that  the  work  itself  is  often  completely 
forgotten  in  the  concentration  of  interest  on 
the   individual   rendering.       One   has    often 
been  irritated  in  hearing,  as  the  result  of  the 
performance   of  some  great   and    interesting 
work,  remarks  exclusively  limited  to  the  ren- 
dering as  such:  '^ Have  you  heard  the  Picco- 
lomini  in  this  9 "    or,    "  You   never  saiv  tlie 
IBiaiichi  in  that,"  and  what  the  one  did  in 
this  act  or  with  that  phrase  or  ballad,   etc. 
The  poet  or  composer — nay,  the  work  itself 
—  are   meanwhile    entirely    ignored    or  for- 
gotten   in     the     interest     of    the    rendering. 

The  dramatist  and   composer,   who  sit  in  a 

viii 


PREFACE 


loell-sluided  box  llsteniug  to  the  perfornmnce 
of  their  work,   mai/,   no  doubt,   quiver  vntlt 
anxiety,  quail  under  failure,  or  stagger  with 
the  drunkenness  of  success.     It  is  a  part  (f 
their  own  selves  lohich  they  have  given  out, 
thrown  before  the  world  from  the  silent  seclu- 
sion and  sanctity  (f  their  studies.     But  it  is 
a  part  of  themselves,  not  their  immediate  whole 
selves  which  they  give  to  the  public;  and  suc- 
cess or  failure  has  nothing  to  do  with  their 
innermost  character,  their  own   habits,  their 
personal  appearance.      The  performer  —  and^ 
he  is  to  be  much  pitied  on  this  account  —  can- 
not escape  from  himself  in   his   work.     JVot 
only  his  mental  and  emotional  self,  but  his 
voice,    his    looks,    his    every    movement,    are 
brought  before  the  public;    his  professional 
success   and  failure    depend  iqjon  that  per- 
formance—  one  evening,  one  hour,  nay  one 
moment,  in  which  he  himself,  his  whole  person- 
ality, makes  or  unmakes  the  situation.     And 
this    is  fixed  and  stereotyped   the  next   day 
in  the  criticism  in  the  press.     Herein  lies  the 
martyrdom    of  the  performing    artist;     and 
what  De  Musset  lets  the  Muse  say  to  the  poet, 

ix 


PREFACE 


in  his  splendid,  simile  of  the  pelican  ivho  gives 
his  heart-blood  to  feed  his  little  ones,  applies 
with  greater  intensity  to  the  performing  artist. 

Among  the  productive  arts  there  are  grada- 
tions in  this  respect  as  ivell: 

Painting  and  sculpture^  and  even  music, 
are  the  products  of  artistic  emotions,  intensely 
jjersonal  in  their  origin;  yet  these  are  con- 
veyed ifi  an  "objective  "  vehicle  of  expression, 
by  means  which  liave  no  direct  suggestion  of 
the  personal  life  of  the  ar^tist.  These  extra- 
ordinary impersonal  7neans  of  expression 
(coloured  canvas,  marble  and  bronze,  instru- 
mental harmony  of  sounds)  are  interposed 
between  the  public  that  sees  or  hears  the  artisfs 
work  and  his  intimate  life.  They  are  not 
the  natural  and  customary  mode  of  personal 
communication,  as  language  is.  We  are 
thus  not  reminded  of  our  actual  life,  or 
the  life  and  character  of  him  who  uses  it, 
when  we  are  spoken  to  in  form  and  colour  or 
harmony  of  sounds.  Tlte  artist  may  disap- 
pear so  completely  within  or  behind  his  work 
that  it  may  lead  to  ingratitude  and  injustice 
on   the  part    of  the  public.      Who    has    not 


PREFACE 


searched  with  dogged  irritation  to  find  the 
name  of  the  sculptor  on  some  heautifxd  monu- 
ment, tvalking  all  round  it  and  peering  in 
vain  for  the  name  of  the  originator  of  the 
work  itself,  ivithin  line  upon  line  of  irrelevant 
and  fulsome  inscriptions,  recording  not  only 
the  merits  of  the  man  or  cause  commemorated, 
but  the  names  and  qualities  of  the  jjersons, 
municipal  or  private  bodies,  under  whose 
auspices  it  vms  erected,  the  time  and  place, 
the  firm  of  the  bronze  founders,  etc.  ?  Who 
has  not  been  jjresent  at  the  inauguration  of 
statues  and  buildings,  when  speech  followed, 
speech,  occupied  to  no  small  extent  with  the 
personal  history  and  glorification  of  the  bodies 
that  happen  to  be  in  power,  of  the  speaker 
himself,  ivith  much  fatuous  rhetoric,  —  and 
barely,  mentioning  the  sculptor  or  architect, 
nay,  ignoring  him  altogether  f 

Literature,  in  contradistinction  to  sculpture, 
painting,  and  music,  using  as  its  vehicle  of 
Gonmiunication  language,  the  same  which  is 
employed  in  their  ordinary  daily  life  by  all 
people,  is  more  directly  expressive  of  the 
personal  life   and   character   of  the   author. 


XI 


PREFACE 


But  in  poetry  (uid  fiction  there  is  again,  a 
distinction  with  regard  to  the  personal  equa- 
tion. De  Musset's  verses  on  the  fate  of  the 
jjoet,  to  which  I  have  just  referred,  emphasize 
the  intimate  personal  character  of  lyrical 
poetry,  in  whicJt  the  innermost  feelings,  as 
well  the  most  subtle  as  the  most  passionate, 
form  the  very  substance  of  the  artistic  crea- 
tion. In  reading  such  verses  and  in  being 
moved  by  them,  tlie  personality  of  tlie^poet  at 
once  and  necessarily  rises  before  our  eyes.  We 
cannot  read  Byron,  Shelley,  Heine,  or  De 
Musset  without  the  inherent  association  <f 
their  own  lives  and  personalities  —  and  herein 
we  may  often  be  misled  into  injustice  and  mis- 
apprehension  of  their  lives  andpersojis.  The 
less  the  work  is  lyrical,  the  more  it  becomes 
epic  or  reflective,  descriptive  or  thoughtful, 
the  less  it  is  subjective  and  personal  in  char- 
acter. 

JVoLV  the  nocel  is  no  doubt  descriptive.  But 
the  more  it  is  descriptive  of  the  actual  life 
surrounding  us,  in  which,  ive  have  reason  to 
believe,  the  author  moves,  the  greater  will  be 
the  danger  of  seeing  in  it  the  life,  and,pjer- 

xii 


PREFACE 


Jtaps,  also  the  person,  of  the  novelist.  The 
farther  the  characters,  scenes,  and  events  de- 
picted are  removed  from  our  actual  Ufe,  the 
more  theij  are  Justo7'ical  or  remote  in  space, 
the  smaller  is  tlds  danger. 

But  in  dealing  with,  the  "  Ethics  of  the  Sur- 
face" I  have  had  reason  to  fear  this  more 
than  ever.  For  tlie  ethical  element  points  to 
the  ''ought  to  5e"  and  not  only  to  the  "state 
that  is;"  we  are  then  not  content  vrith  merely 
recording  what  rue  see  before  its,  bat  we  must 
imply  ivhat  ive  should  like  to  see  in  its  stead. 
In  so  far  the  author  is  necessarily  describing 
what  he  himself  tJ links,  and  must  put  i)do  the 
mouth  of  some  person,  or  distribute  among 
several,  the  actual  views  of  life  which  he 
holds.  He,  in  so  far  obtrudes  the  p)ersonal 
equation,  and  the  inference  vnight  be  that  he 
is  describing  himself  in  the  fictitious  person 
who  is  the  bearer  of  liii^  "ethical"  views  —  an 
unpardonable  instance  of  fatuity  and  bad 
taste.  If'  I  had  thought  that  this  would  be 
the  impression  conveyed  to  the  reader,  I  should 
certainly  Jiave  been  paralysed  in  tlte  main- 
springs of  literary  production. 

xiii 


PREFACE 


tSo,  too,  in  dealing  with  this  surface  of  life, 
with  every-day  scenes  and  occurrences,  the 
danger  is  imminent  that  I  am  supposed  to  de- 
pict, or  even  to  copy,  the  actual  life  about  tne ; 
and  that  consequently  attempts  at  identifica- 
tion will  be  made  by  the  reader.  This  fear 
would  again  cramp  the  freedom  of  production 
—  nay,  make  it  impossible. 

I  desire  therefore  to  say  that,  though  I  have 
naturally  draivn  upon  my  own  experience  of 
men  and  things,  the  main  characters  in  these 
stories  are  all  fictitious;  that  especially  as 
regards  those  shown  in  an  unfavourable  light, 
they  have  no  individual  counterpart  among 
the  people  I  know,  and  that,  excepting  the 
story  of  the  Flags  of  Badajos,  which  loas  told 
me  by  a  friend,,  no  incident  happened,  or  was 
developed  in  its  comjjleteness,  as  here  given  by 
me.  I  have,  for  instance,  never  met  a  Mr. 
Leather] Lead,  nor  did  I  ever  come  across  the 
incident  of  his  rudeness  here  related,  —  the 
i)icident,  i)i  fact,  formed  the  subject  of  a  dis- 
agreeable dream. 

I  therefore  count  upon  tJie  generous  fairness 
of  the  reader  to  eliminate  the  possibility  of 

xiv 


PREFACE 


sucJi  identijication,  and  to  extend  Jtin  indul- 
gence even  to  the  Introduction  as  here  re- 
printed, written  ivhen  I  felt  secure  under 
cover  of  a  pseudonym. 

C.   W. 

Newpokt.  K.I..  AuMUst  4,  1899. 


XT 


CONTENTS 

PASE 

Preface v 

Introduction  —  The    Ethics    of    the 

Surface xix 

The    Rudeness    of    the    Honourable 

Richard  Leatherhead     3 

A  HoMBURG  Story 66 

Cui  Bono  ? 228 


IXTRODUCTIOX 

THE   ETHICS   OF  THE   SURFACE 

THE  series  of  which  this  story  is  the 
first  number  requires  a  few  words  of 
preface,  because  of  the  title  which  has  been 
o^iven  it. 

An  eminent  man  of  letters  who  has  read 
the  manuscript  of  two  of  these  stories  writes 
to  the  author  :  "  This  whole  field,  which  you 
happily  designate  that  of  '  The  Social  Ethics 
of  the  Surface,'  is  eminently  worth  working 
—  it  is  the  ultimate  culture.  .  .  .  The 
inmost  truth  of  the  things  at  the  surftice  is 
most  ditficult  of  popular  apprehension.  The 
most  abstruse  of  all  sciences  is  the  Philos- 
ophy of  the  Superficial.    .     .     . 

"I  thank  you  for  the  high  pleasure  I 
have  experienced  in  the  reading,  and  I  most 
heartily  congratulate  you  on  the  entirely 
new  field  you  have  seen,  and  bid  fair  to 
possess  in  its  entire  content." 

xiz 


INTRODUCTION 


I  have  omitted  passages  which  contain 
praise  hiohly  encouraffino-  and  satisfactory 
to  the  author.  But  I  felt  moved,  with  th(> 
permission  of  the  writer,  to  insert  the  pas- 
sages above  quoted,  as  they  aptly  enable  me 
to  say  a  few  words  in  explanation  of  the 
title  which  has  been  given  to  this  series, 
and  which  may  appear  pedantic  and  pre- 
tentious. 

The  writer  quoted  calls  this  "  an  entirely 
new  and  distinctive  tield."  I  have  no  doubt 
that,  uroed  by  a  oenerous  heart,  he  may 
have  chosen  terms  of  praise  stronger  than 
a  pure  spirit  of  criticism,  unalloyed  with  a 
sympathetic  desire  of  encouragement,  would 
have  justiiied.  My  immediate  and  con- 
scious aim  in  writing  these  "  stories "  has 
never  been  to  be  original,  or  to  do  some- 
thing new,  —  in  fact,  I  have  only  become 
positively  conscious  of  their  originality 
throuo-h  the  letter  of  m\  kindly  critic. 
What  did  often  perplex  me  and  fill  me  with 

XX 


INTRODUCTION 


doubt  while  I  was  writing,  and  upon  reflec- 
tion after  I  had  written,  was  the  question 
under  what  accepted  class  or  category  of 
literature,  understood  and  admitted  by  th(^ 
public  and  approved  of  by  the  critic,  these 
attempts  of  mine  could  he  grouped. 

I  felt  that  they  would  fall  between  two 
stools  ;  that  they  were  full  of  contradictions, 
the  most  evident  of  which  were  two  : 

1.  That  thev  dealt  heavily  and  seriously 
with  things  which  are  not  weighty,  and  are 
not  deemed  of  universal  importance,  that 
are  not  at  the  foundation  of  life,  not  big 
with  life ;  that  they  attempted  laljoriously 
to  dio-  and  delve  down  into  the  innermost 
depths  of — the  surface. 

2.  That  in  form  they  moved  about  in  the 
undefined  and  unacknowledged  borderland 
that  lies  between  Theory  and  Practice, 
Thought  and  Life,  the  Essay  and  the  Story. 

As  regards  the  first  question  —  whether 
the  "  surfiice  morals  "  go  deep  down  in  our 


XXI 


INTRODUCTION 


lite  —  I  have  felt  growing  in  me,  long  before 
I  thought  of  writing  stories  myself,  the  con- 
viction that  our  "  novel "  literature  erred  in 
dealing  too  exclusively  with  what  are  sup- 
posed to  be  the  fundamental  and  ruling 
interests  and  passions  of  life,  and  therefore 
the  only  proper  motives  to  action  in  litera- 
ture. The  relation  of  man  to  woman,  love  in 
all  its  phases  and  with  all  its  consequences, 
the  lust  of  power  and  gain,  the  struggle  for 
empire  or  the  struggle  for  existence,  money, 
a  successful  career,  —  these  were  considered 
the  only  topics  of  importance  suiEcient  to 
become  universal,  and  therefore  capable  of 
appealing  to  the  interest  of  the  general 
reader,  and  of  evoking  the  sympathy  which 
would  fascinate  his  attention  and  stir  emo- 
tion. Among  the  more  abstract  and  in- 
tellectual interests  of  life  —  which  were 
generally  excluded  from  the  ordinary  litera- 
ture of  fiction,  or  only  introduced  episodi- 
cally —  religion    was     in     a    few    instances 

xxii 


INTRODUCTION 


admitted.  As  a  rule,  the  novel  has  not  got 
beyond  what  might  be  called  the  lyrical 
staee,  in  which  "  love  "  and  the  w^hole  rela- 
tion  of  man  to  woman  is  the  central  topic 
of  interest.  It  is  only  quite  recently  that 
failure  in  business  or  struggles  in  inner 
reliofious  life  have  been  made  the  central 
motive  for  novel  or  drama.  And  I  have 
felt  a  growing  sense  of  opposition  to  this 
narrow  conception  of  life  as  reflected  in 
literature,  very  similar  to  the  revolt  of  the 
so-called  realistic  school  against  the  imper- 
fect picture  of  life  which  a  conventional 
tradition  of  propriety  had  uuposed. 

But  I  asked  myself  whether  the  realists 
were  not  in  their  turn  restricting  the  focus 
of  the  novelist's  vision,  while  they  were 
over-accentuating  certain  aspects  and  phases 
of  life  to  the  detriment  of  trutlrful  proportion 
and  artistic  harmony.  Were  their  "  sense  of 
colour"'  and  their  reijard  for  their  "  values" 
correct?     Could  they  present  a  true,  if  not 


XXUl 


INTRODUCTION 


a  beautiful  and  sympathetic  picture  of  life, 
when  red  was  either  the  one  predominant 
pigment  or  was  crudely  introduced,  and 
obtruded  into  even  the  most  subdued  com- 
bination of  tones  and  colours? 

In  spite  of  this  much-vaunted  realism  and 
"scientific"  spirit,  the  picture  which  the 
powerful  and,  at  times,  monumental  litera- 
ture of  the  day,  especially  in  France,  gives 
of  the  age  or  the  country  is  one-sided  and 
incomplete,  often  caricatured,  — atall  events, 
it  is  not  true  to  life,  either  the  life  of  France 
or  any  other  country.  It  is  the  "  reverse  " 
of  the  "coin"  of  idealism,  the  artistic  value  of 
which  the  realists  repudiated.  If  they  meant 
by  idealism  the  exaggeration  of  one  aspect 
of  life  and  things,  to  the  forced  exclusion  of 
the  other  elements  essential  to  the  organic 
nature,  individual  and  social,  then  theirs  is 
idealism  of  the  ugly  and  common. 

The    question   of  sex,   for  instance,    is  a 

fundamental    factor   in    life,    and   cannot   be 

xxiv 


INTRODUCTION 


denied  or  extirpated,  even  l)y  the  genius  of 
a  Tolstoi.  But  the  all-absorbing  impor- 
tance, and  the  exclusive  part  it  plays  in  the 
life  of  the  men  and  women  portrayed  by 
Zola  and  Guy  de  Maupassant  is  not  true  to 
fact.  Is  theirs  a  jjicture  of  the  whole  of 
modern  life,  nay,  even  of  what  is  essential  to 
the  lives  of  each  one  of  us  in  our  conscious, 
wakino-  existence?  There  may  be  a  few 
idle  })eoplc  wdth  diseased  nerves  of  wdiom  it 
may  be  true,  and  their  fate  may  exception- 
ally form  the  topic  of  a  powerful  story.  But 
Ave  cannot  make  a  ''school"  of  this.  In 
fact,  in  literature  and  art  the  idea  of  a 
school  or  a  fashion,  —  as  regards  subject  as 
well  as  mode  of  expression  and  treatment, 
—  consciously  established  during  the  actual 
})eriod  of  production  for  writers  or  artists  to 
follow  or  to  be  condemned,  is  an  absurdity. 
The  critic  of  posterity  may  classify  into 
schools  ;  but  each  artist  umst  express  sin- 
cerely and  truthfully  what  he  deems  worthy 

XXV 


INTRODUCTION 


of  expression,  and  in  the  manner  most  in- 
telligible and  most  adequately  convincing  to 
his  own  judgment. 

If  all  these  interests  and  })assions  are  fun- 
damental to  lif(%  the  task  is  to  represent 
them  in  their  due  proportion  —  and  propoi'- 
tion  is  at  the  liottom  of  ta.':>te  —  and  to  avoid 
exaggeration  of  single  features  in  portraiture. 
This  is  true  realism. 

But  the  further  question  must  be  asked  : 
What  "  life  "  the  modern  novelist  is  depict- 
ing, and  hence  what  is  essential  to  such 
life?  The  novelists  with  whose  theories  I 
am  at  issue,  it  appears  to  me,  always  under- 
stand by  life  ^vhat  I  should  call  the  life  of 
prehistoric  man.  I  mean  when  they  are  up- 
holding the  princi})les  of  their  realism.  To 
the  life  of  prehistoric  man  all  the  im})ulses 
and  striving's  which  tend  to  the  satisfaction 
of  hunger  and  thirst,  warmth  and  shelter, 
and  the  rudimentary  passions  of  the   sp(>cies 

are   not    only  fundamental,    but    ma}'    ade- 

xxvi 


INTRODUCTION 


quately  fill  the  whole  of  his  conscious  exist- 
ence. 

But    we   have   developed   far  beyond  this 
stage.     Thousands    of  years  of  civilisation 
and  social  differentiation  have  drawn   within 
the  sphere  oi  fundamental  necessities  what, 
to  the  savage  and  our  prehistoric  ancestors, 
Avas  either  unfelt,  unknown,  or  a  matter  of 
accident  and  luxury.     Not  only  those  who 
are  the  fullest  and  highest  rei)resentatives  of 
our  culture    and  civilisation,    l)ut   even  the 
simplest     and     hunible^l     un'uil)er>    of   our 
modern     occidental     communities    have     a 
varietv  of  ueeds  and  desires,  without   which 
life  would  to  them  not  Ije  worth  living,  which 
are  so  far  removed  from  the  "  fundamental 
necessities  "  of  prehistoric  peo})le  that  they 
would    appear   barely    to  graze    the  surface 
of    existence.       But,    with    human     beings 
possessed  of  conscious  volition,  it  is  surely 
a  test  of  the  essential  nature  of  needs  and 

jxvii 


INTRODUCTION 


desires,  when  man  is  ready  to  resign  his 
i"io:ht  of  livino;  unless  these  be  satisfied. 

And  how  varied  and  multitudinous  are 
these  needs  !  AYho  would  attempt  to  enu- 
merate them?  They  make  up  the  fulness 
and  wholeness  of  that  rich  mine  from  which 
the  novelist  and  the  followers  of  all  forms 
of  literary  effort  will  extract  jewels  or  mere 
pebbles.  I  might  be  allowed  to  (|Uote  here 
what  I  published  about  twenty  years  ago  in 
connection  with  the  study  of  social  phenom- 
ena :  "  Such  facts  will  ])e  none  the  less 
useful  to  us  because  they  happen  to  lie  on 
the  surface,  close  under  our  eyes.  It  may, 
as  a  rule,  be  true  that  gold  lies  deep,  and 
must  be  won  by  digging ;  but  the  test  of 
gold  is  its  substance,  not  its  position  in  the 
earth  ;  and  when  ^ve  can  get  it  by  merely 
washing  sand,  let  us  do  so,  not  throw  it 
away  as  worthless." 

Among  these  needs  of  life  w^hich  have 
not    been    adequately    recognised    in    their 


o 


XXVIU 


INTRODUCTION 


dignity  and  importance  by  the  novelist,  as 
fundamental  to  our  life,  though  they  appear 
to  be  on  the  surface,  I  would  especially 
sino;le  out  the  cravino;  we  all  feel  to  live 
with  people  who  have  refined  and  gentle 
manners,  tact,  the  power  of  self-control,  the 
intellectual  sympathy — and  the  power  to 
live  up  to  it  —  which  makes  their  intercourse 
varied  without  being  restless,  aflable  without 
beino-  obtrusive,  dijinitied  without  l)einii'  foi'- 
biddingly  reserved.  AVith  well-bred  i)eople 
of  this  kind  we  live  pleasantly,  without  a  jar. 
Forced  intercourse  with  those  not  possessed 
of  these  qualities  produces  not  only  that 
very  serious  pain  called  boredom,  but,  when 
continuous,  destroys  peace,  and  leads  finally 
to  catastrophes  which  may  end  in  truly  tragic 
developments.  Nay,  many  of  us  have  an 
intense  need  —  and  the  greater  the  progress 
of  civilisation  and  education  the  more  wide- 
spread and  universal  will  this  need  ))e  —  to 

associate  with  people  of  intellectual  refiue- 

xxix 


INTRODUCTION 


ment,  who  have  thought  on,  or  have  thought 
out,  the  subjects  we  are  interested  in,  have 
read,  or,  at  least,  know  of  the  existence  of, 
the  books  which  have  become  "  classical ;  " 
who  have  a  general  knowledge  of  the  great 
historical  events  which  have  modified  the 
world's  history ;  have  artistic  appreciation, 
or,  at  least,  some  knowledge  of  the  master- 
pieces of  the  various  arts  ;  and  have  intel- 
lectual sympathy  with  the  endeavours  of 
scientific  men  and  the  })roblems  which  are 
occupying  them.  To  many  of  us  com})auy 
of  a  lower  standard  is  no  company  at  all. 
All  this  is  true  for  the  Socialist  as  well  as 
for  the   Tory. 

After  all,  man  is,  as  iVristotle  has  put  it, 
a  t,(uov  TTokiTLKov  —  ^  social  animal ;  it  is 
unnatural  for  him  to  live  deprived  of  free 
intercourse  with  his  equals  ;  and  the  simple 
housemaid  requires  this,  as  a  necessity  of 
her  life,  as  much  as  the  most  learned  and 
most  refined  and  those  occupying  the  most 

XXX 


INTRODUCTION 


exalted  positions  in  modern  communities. 
These  needs  appear  to  be  on  the  "  surface," 
but  in  reality  they  form  the  very  core  of  our 
conscious  existence.  Considerably  more  than 
lialf  of  oui-  wakinir  thouo-hts  and  aspira- 
tions are  directed  towards  the  satisfaction 
of  them  ;  they  have  become  fundamental  to 
us,  and  we  therefore  need  not  appeal  to  the 
basal  passions  of  life  for  their  justification. 
They  are  worthy  of  literary  treatment.  And 
fiction  which  pretends  to  hold  tlie  mirror  of 
life  before  the  eyes  of  humanity  is,  at  least, 
incomplete,  if  it  does  not  make  these  the 
subjects  of  its  artistic  creation. 

There  is  an  analogy  in  the  development 
of  ethical  stud^'.  The  systems  of  morals 
have  hitherto  l)een  almost  exclusively  con- 
cerned with  the  fundamental  general  princi- 
ples of  human  action,  with  Hedonism,  Al- 
truism, Eooism,  Transcendentalism,  Utili- 
tarianism,    Cynicism,    etc.,    etc.;  and  they 

have  not  ventured  upon  the  field  of  "  prac- 

xxxi 


INTRODUCTION 


tical  ■'  ethics,  of  the  needs  of  our  actual, 
complicated  life,  and  the  duties  and  rights 
which  our  developed  social  existence  has 
evolved.  But  we  require  noAV  (if  such  a 
"  practical  science  "  has  any  right  of  exist- 
ence) inductive  ethics  of  the  surface,  which 
go  deep  down  into  the  nature  of  the  social 
existence  of  modern  men  and  women,  as 
they  meet  each  other  in  free  intercourse  and 
are  bound  to  live  together.  The  sphere  of 
economics  has  already  been  drawn  into  the 
circle  of  ethical  enquiry.  Ethics  will  now 
have  to  penetrate  into  the  very  substance  of 
social,  intellectual,  and  artistic  spheres  of 
living. 

The  mention  of  "  Ethics  "  ))rinofs  me  to 
the  second  and  graver  cause  of  doubt  which 
I  have  felt  in  the  writins;  of  these  stories  — 
the  question  of  form  and  not  of  suljstance. 

For  I  am  well  aware  that  tlie  surface  side 
of  life  has  frequently  ])een  introduced  into 
fiction,    from    the    great    Balzac    and    Jane 


xxxu 


INTRODUCTION 


Austen  to  Gyp  and  Mr.  Henry  James. 
What  I  have  said,  and  what,  up  to  this 
point,  I  propose  to  do,  may  not  be  original. 
I  do  not  mind  this,  if  only  the  facts  be  ad- 
mitted as  true.  I  cannot  say  the  same  for 
the  artistic  form  of  these  stories. 

I  feel,  in  the  first  instance,  a  serious  per- 
sonal misoivino-    lest  the  strono-  theoretical 
bias  of  my  own  mind  may  lead  me  to  think 
and  theorise  first,  before  I  observe  and  study 
life,  and  then  to  transform   the  result  into 
human    action,  to  philosophise  into  life,  — 
to  humanise,  vitalise,  and  dramatise  thought 
and  theory,  and  to  theorise  and  to  philoso- 
phise life  and  action.     But  in  this  process  I 
am  well   aware  of  the  danger  that   life  may 
lose    its    vitality,  and    thought  its  accuracy 
and    pure    innermost    validity  —  while    the 
reader  may  be  wearied. 

Ai's  est  celare  artem  may  be  a  common- 
place ;  it  will  never  l)e  a  platitude,  ^lany 
o-reat    masters    of    fiction,    (jf   whom    Tur- 


XXXill 


INTRODUCTION 


genieir  is  the  type,  have  told  deep  and  deli- 
cate truths  of  a  theoretical  or  subtle  nature 
wilhiii  the  pure  story,  without  ever  grossly 
and  obtrusively  introducing  a  generalisation, 
without  ever  pointing  a  moral  or  illustrating 
a  social  truth,  —  and  the  effect  is  a  truly  ar- 
tistic one.  The  master  mind  of  George 
Eliot  (who  was  a  great  artist,  all  the  same) 
has  interspersed  her  fiction  with  excellent 
reflections  and  generalisations ;  we  think 
while  we  feel  —  sometimes  liefore  we  feel. 
But  there  is  room  for  Turgenieffs  and 
George  Eliots,  and  I  sincerely  hope  there 
will  be  many  of  them  coming.  We  may 
personally  prefer  the  one  or  the  other  form ; 
but  we  never  have  the  right  to  say  that 
either  the  one  or  the  other  ought  not  to 
exist  or  to  be  followed.  Perhaps  the  novel- 
ist who  makes  us  entirely  forget  the 
"  thouffht  "  at  the  bottom  of  the  incident  is 
the    greater    artist    of  the    two.     I  do    not 

know.       It    depends    upon    the     bulk    and 

xxxiv 


INTRODUCTION 


weifjht  and  inner  excellence  of  the  work 
itself.  At  all  events,  the  writer  who  does 
not  appear  conscious  of  originality,  depth, 
or  elaborateness,  who  is  not  continually 
smacking  his  lips  over  the  delicate  flavour 
of  his  new  and  subtle  truths,  is  certainly,  in 
his  personality,  more  amiable  than  his  self- 
conscious  or  pedantic  counterpart. 

Feeling  all  this,  how  grave  must  be  my 
misgivings,  when  I  have  ventured  to  adopt  a 
form  which  sometimes  would  debar  the 
writing  from  being  called  a  novel  or  storj^ 
at  all,  which  is  a  manifest  and  direct  treat- 
ment of  a  Surface  Problem  of  life !  The 
problem  modified  the  search  after,  or  the  se- 
lection from,  the  life  which  presented  itself 
to  my  observation  ;  or  an  interesting  inci- 
dent or  character  only  arrested  my  attention 
when  it  embodied,  solved,  or  illustrated  such 
a  problem. 

But  I  have  quieted  these  misgivings,  if 
not  dissipated  them  entirely,  by  the  reflec- 

XXXV 


INTRODUCTION 


tion  that  every  work  of  art,  the  novel  in- 
cluded, requires  a  certain  unity  of  com- 
position and  interest.  And  why  should  not 
this  unity  of  interest  be  of  a  theoretical  and 
ethical  nature,  in  a  time  when  scientific 
thought  and  reflection  are  so  predominant  a 
feature  of  the  Zeitgeist?  And  why  should 
not  the  form  directly  appeal  to  and  reflect 
this  coonitive  side  of  even  our  aesthetic 
mind?  The  novel  has,  in  this  res^Dect, 
hitherto  been  under  the  dominance  of  the 
drama  ;  and  though  it  is  meant  to  be  read  and 
not  to  be  seen  and  heard  in  a  short  period 
of  time,  its  appeal  to  the  imagination  is 
through  the  dramatic  methods,  which  it  has, 
perhaps,  too  slavishly  followed  in  form. 
But  the  novel  and  the  story  are  books  to  be 
read  and  thought  over  at  leisure,  and  not 
plays  to  be  enacted  in  one  evening.  And 
therefore  it  may  perhaps  be  the  time  for  in- 
sisting upon  some  of  the  methods  and  forms 
that  belong  to  books  which  directly  appeaf 

xxxvi 


INTRODUCTION 


to  our  thouohtfulness  and  satisfy  our  coo-ni- 
tive  and  reflectins:  attitude  of  mind. 

At  all  events,  thouoh  the  more  "  dram- 
atic  "  novel  will  always  maintain  itself,  and 
has  a  supreme  right  of  existence,  there  is 
room  for  the  more  theoretical  form  beside 
it  ;  and  it  is  worth  while  trying  the  experi- 
ment. Should  it  be  strong  enough  to  assert 
and  to  retain  its  right  of  existence,  the  laws 
and  canons  which  govern  its  ideal  structure 
will  have  to  l)e  established  Ijv  criticism  in 
the  course  of  time,  and  will  have  to  be  in- 
dependent of  those  which  rule  the  more 
dramatic  novel. 

This  applies  specially  to  the  dialogue. 
I  have  lono-  since  felt  that  our  dialoo-ue  in 
novel-literature,  because  it  was  thus  devel- 
oped out  of  the  dialogue  of  the  drama,  was 
not  constructively  correct  for  a  form  which 
is  read  and  not  heard,  nor  is  it  true  to  life. 

"  '  Will  you  have  some  tea,  Sir  Harry?  ' 

'  No,  thank  you,  Lady  Mary.' 

And  he  left  the  room  "  — 
xxxvii 


INTRODUCTION 


may  be  elFective  on  the  stage,  where  the 
personality  of  the  actors  and  their  by-play 
emphasise  and  complete  the  action,  and 
where  the  scenery  and  the  local  atmosphere 
"ive  a  world  of  meaninsr.  But  these  words 
in  themselves  do  not  interest  us  in  life,  nor 
do  they  say  anything  to  us  in  reading  them. 
It  is  really  only  in  the  most  stirring  and 
supreme  moments  of  a  crisis  that  depth  of 
emotion  and  pregnancy  of  meaning  are  con- 
veyed in  compressed  short  sentences  and 
words. 

But  in  real  life  we  do  not  speak  in  these 
trivial,  short  sentences.  And  I  would  ask 
the  reader  whether  any  picture  of  our 
modern  life  is  adequate  which  does  not 
render  some  of  the  deliohtful  and  interestins; 
talks  which  we  have  had?  Have  not  these 
talks,  which  moved  and  modified  our  life 
and  marked  epochs  in  our  existence,  l)een 
connected     and     coherent,     going     to     the 

foundation  of  things,  —  were  thev  not  of  the 

xxxviii 


INTRODUCTION 


"Essay"  order?  And,  from  the  point  of 
view  of  realism,  is  the  picture  of  life  true 
and  complete  which  omits  such  vital  ele- 
ments of  our  social  existence,  the  need  and 
the  satisfaction  of  which  we  constantly  feel 
and  crave  for? 

But  how  rare  it  is  that  we  ever  find  in  a 
novel  a  talk  or  conversation  which  we  should 
care  to  listen  to  in  real  life  or  to  recall  when 
Ave  are  alone  !  And  this  interest  and  these 
talks  are  universal ;  they  arc  not  restricted 
to  the  educated  and  leisured  classes.  Go  to 
any  workingman's  clul),  listen  (if  you  were 
privileged  enough)  to  the  conversation  of 
two  young  girls  of  whatever  class  Avhen  they 
are  alone,  of  two  hoys  at  a  public  school,  of 
men  in  a  country  house  after  they  have  left 
the  smokinff-room  —  and  vou  will  surelv 
not  tind  the  vapid  chattel"  called  dialogue  in 
our  novels. 

Still,  I  know  that  the  main  difficult v  in 

introducing   such    conversation    liss    in    the 

xxx'ix 


INTRODUCTION 


proper  application  of  artistic  tact,  which 
feels  and  knows  what  is  opportune  and  what 
is  out  of  place.  The  difficulty  will  always 
be  to  discover  and  to  establish  the  relation 
which  such  conversation  will  hold  to  the 
story  as  a  whole,  the  unity  of  its  design  and 
its  Ijearing  upon  the  characters  and  the 
situations  of  the  narrative.  The  topic  of 
conversation  and  its  treatment  may  become 
so  predominant  and  important  as  to  submerge 
the  interest  of  the  story  ;  the  words  might 
then  be  spoken  by  anyl^ody,  — they  may  be 
the  bearers  of  impersonal  truths,  —  and 
it  will  really  be  an  Essay  and  we  might  be 
put  in  the  "  Essay  "  mood.  Well,  the  same 
happens  to  us  in  life  and  even  in  stirring 
situations  of  life,  and  we  take  up  the  thread 
of  ordinary  existence  with  refreshed  interest. 
I  do  not  venture  to  lay  down  the  canons 
of  this  literary  form  which  has  not  yet  been 
made  manifest  in  actual  Avorks.  The  great 
masters,  Plato  and  Rousseau,  have  dealt  with 


INTRODUCTION 


important  problems  in  the  dialogue  form. 
In  the  one,  the  deep  philosophical  thoughts 
were  entirely  predominant  and  the  living 
characters  were  merely  hinted  at  (with 
supreme  art,  no  doubt)  ;  while  in  the  other 
the  characters,  though  more  fully  dealt  with, 
do  not  seem  to  possess  real  vitality.  But 
both  deal  with  fundamental  problems  and 
not  with  our  "Surface." 

As  a  rule,  it  will  no  doubt  be  wrong  to 
make  two  men  discuss  deeply  and  continu- 
ously the  Immortality  of  the  Soul  while 
riding  home  from  a  hard  day's  hunting  — 
unless  the  choice  and  fact  of  such  a  discus- 
sion at  such  a  time  and  in  such  a  place  are 
meant  to  serve  as  an  illustration  of  the 
characters  and  the  situation.  There  will 
have  to  be  an  artistic  titness  Ijetwecn  the 
topics  chosen,  the  things  said,  and  the  per- 
sons saying  them,  as  well  as  the  outer  con- 
ditions   of    their    conversation.       The    talk 

ought  to  have  some  essential  bearing  upon 

xli 


INTRODUCTION 


the  story.  But  this  being  the  case,  uiay 
not  the  conversation  itself  interest  us,  apart 
from  the  personalities  and  the  story  ?  may  it 
not  be  worth  listening  to  for  its  own  sake, 
or  must  it  be  colourless  and  empty  talk  that 
Avould  bore  us  in  real  life? 

These  are  the  doubts  and  uusgivinos 
which  have  come  to  me  and  the  problems 
which  they  call  up.  I  know  that  the  two 
contradictory  elements  which  make  up  the 
stories  in  this  "  Ethics  of  the  Surface  "  Series 
may  not  always  be  fully  harmonised.  Some- 
times the  essay,  sometimes  the  story  may 
predominate.  But  I  must  write  in  my  own 
way  ;  and  I  cannot  go  far  wrong  so  long  as  I 
am  sincere  and  conscientious  in  the  execution 
of  my  task.  And  as  for  the  proi)riety  of 
bringing  these  ellbrts  before  the  public,  the 
appreciative  criticism  of  competent  men,  the 
opinion  of  one  of  whom  I  have  here  quoted, 
encourages  me  to  believe  that  they  cannot 

be  wholly  without  interest. 

xlii 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 


THE   RUDENESS 

OF   THE 

HONOURABLE   RICHARD  LEATHERHEAD 

I  HAD  been  .staying  at  a  Sicilian  port  for 
a  week,  and  had  been  treated  with 
much  kindness  and  consideration  by  my  old 
college  friend  Maxwell,  who  had  l)een  settled 
there  for  some  time,  —  if  "  settled  "  could  ever 
be  applied  to  him. 

He  was  a  man  Avho  knew  ever^^hing  and 
everybody,  could  do  everything,  and  had  been 
everywhere  —  or,  rather,  as  an  epigrammatic 
friend  had  once  said  of  him,  "  Maxwell  is 
always  somewhere  else  and  is  always  doing 
something  else."  In  his  youth  he  had  given 
}iromise  of  great  power  and  great  achieve- 
ment, and  had  been  called  a  genius.  The 
same  epigrammatic  friend  had,  however,  re- 
plied to  one  who  said  of  Maxwell,  "  I  always 
looked  upon  him  as  a  man  of  great  prom- 
ise," —  "  Don't  you  think  that  men  of  prom- 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

ise  often  turn  out  men  of  com})roniise  ? " 
In  short,  Maxwell  was  the  counterpart  of 
Browning's  "  Waring." 

He  had  now  made  this  Sicilian  port  the 
pivot  of  his  rotations  round  the  Mediter- 
ranean ;  while,  at  odd  moments,  he  would 
turn  u})  in  Piccadilly  with  an  orthodox  frock- 
coat  and  to[)-hat,  as  if  he  had  l)een  striking 
the  London  pavement  with  }>atent  buttoned 
boots  for  years  without  intermission,  would 
flit  about  in  the  London  drawing-rooms,  — 
nay,  the  salons  of  Paris  and  other  Euro- 
pean ca})itals, — and  then  would  vanish  again 
to  gyrate  freely  about  the  Southern  Seas. 
He  was  fond  of  yachting,  —  in  fact,  of  all 
sport,  —  drew  and  even  painted  Avell,  was 
musical,  and  had  a  refined  taste  and  exten- 
sive knowledge  of  the  literatures  of  all  lands. 
I  do  not  know  whether  he  ever  published 
anything.  I  have  often  suspected  his  author- 
t^hip  when  some  striking  and  original  publi- 


RICHARD    LEATHERHEAD 

cation  was  sent  into  the  world  anonymously 
or  pseiidonymoush'. 

That  lie  had  literary  power  I  feel  fully 
convinced,  for  I  have  hardly  ever  met  such 
a  raconteur — so  graphic  and  sensuous  in 
his  description  of  scenes  and  situations,  so 
accurate  and  still  suggestive  in  his  delinea- 
tion of  character,  and  so  felicitous  in  Jiis 
diction.  I  often  imaoined  (I  know  how 
readily  one  is  deceived  in  this)  that  his 
talk  could,  if  taken  down  in  shorthand, 
be  immediately  transferred  to  print.  To 
this  must  be  added  his  extensive  circle  of 
acquaintances  all  over  the  world,  the  almost 
artistic  interest  which  he  took  in  their  lives 
and  family  history,  his  power  of  sympathetic 
divination,  which,  together  with  his  fresh 
and  cordial  manner,  invited  confidence,  and 
made  liim  the  repository  of  mucli  intimate 
information.  He  reallv  was  a  dear,  o-ood 
fellow,  liking  people,  ready  and  overjoyed 
to   help,    and   naturally,    therefore,    liked. 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

He  had  l)een  very  kind  to  me  during  the 
last  week,  and  realising  that  I  was  some- 
what  ])roken  down  from  overwork,  and  ac- 
cordingly depressed,  he  had  taken  me  al)out 
assiduously  and  never  obtrusively,  had 
caused  me  to  see  all  the  places  and  things 
of  interest,  and  to  meet  all  the  interesting 
people.  He  had  been  dining  with  me  in  my 
hotel  that  evening,  and  we  were  discussing 
the  peculiar  life  of  the  town  and  the  nature 
of  its  society,  when  I  said  : 

"By  the  way,  that  man  Leatherhead 
seems  to  me  somehow  or  other  out  of  place 
as  Consul,  and,  moreover,  he  seems  to  know 
it." 

"You  are  an  acute  observer,"  replied 
Maxwell,  with  an  amused  smile,  and  with  a 
look  of  expectant  inquiry.  There  was  also 
a  touch  of  the  magisterial  examiner  in 
him  when  he  asked,  "  Why  do  you  think 
so?" 

"AVell,"  I  answered,  "in  the  first  place,  I 


EICHARD    LEATHERHEAD 

know  that  his  family  tradition  and  connec- 
tion would  have  pointed  to  the  diplomatic 
rather  than  the  consular  service." 

"Quite  correct,"  Maxwell  threw  in. 

"Then  he  seems  to  assert  in  all  his  bear- 
ing and  manner  (and  his  wife  accentuates 
this  still  more  markedly)  that  he  is  not  sat- 
isfied with  his  surroundings  and  vocation  — 
that  it  is  a  temporary  makeshift  —  in  fact, 
that  they  have  professionally  (I  did  not  no- 
tice any  suggestion  of  financial  discomfort) 
seen 'better  days.'  .  .  .  On  the  whole, 
—  I  hate  to  use  the  word, — there  is  a  touch 
of  snobbishness.  In  my  more  impulsive  and 
dogmatic  younger  days  I  should  at  once 
have  called  him  a  snob." 

Maxwell  had  been  followino-  me  with  close 
attention,  nodding  assent  at  every  phrase, 
with  manifest  delight  in  the  progress  of  my 
characterisation . 

"  You  would  not  be  wrono-  in  callino-  him 
that    in    the    full   acceptation    of   the    tei'm. 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

though  it  is  onl}'  of  late  years  that  he  has 
thus  developed  into  the  full  type.  Circum- 
stance, or,  as  prigs  would  call  it,  environ- 
ment, has  produced  this  clear-cut  type  in 
him,  though  the  jn-cdisposition  was  in  the 
person,  the  organism,  itself — or  in  the 
early  and  more  essential  conditions  of  his 
child-life,  which  amounts  to  the  same  thing." 

"  I  don't  quite  see  that,"  I  objected.  "  I 
know  his  elder  brother.  Lord  Haughtown, 
who  may  be  reserved  and  shy,  but  has  no 
trace  of  truculence  or  assertiveness.  The 
Consul  is  of  well-established  and  ancient 
descent,  and,  starting  with  social  recogni- 
tion in  his  favour,  had  no  need  to  cringe  or 
to  bully." 

"Ah,"  Maxwell  here  cut  in  more  eagerly, 
"that's  just  where  you  are  mistaken.  You 
see,  though  I  am  a  true  Briton,  I  have  lived 
abroad  so  nuieh  and  have  entered  so  inti- 
mately into  the  lives  of  other  nations  that  I 
can  recoonise  more  subtle  intluences,  where 


RICHARD    LEATHERHEAD 

before  early  familiarity  made  perception  im- 
possible." 

He  had  been  leaning;  forward  and  talkino- 
rapidly,  and  now  sat  back  in  his  chair,  raised 
his  forefinger  with  a  gesture  of  emphatic 
deliberation,  and,  somewhat  compressing  his 
eyes  with  a  look  of  critical  accuracy  as  he 
gazed  at  me,  he  continued : 

"Mind  you,  I  admit  that  our  system  of 
primogeniture,  and  the  consequent  social 
descent  seriatini  from  the  peer  to  the  com- 
moner, have  in  our  country  counteracted  the 
isolation  of  the  noblesse,  and  also  the  marked 
feeling  of  superiority  and  inferiorit}'  of  defi- 
nite classes.  It  has,  in  some  respects,  tluis 
made  us  for  centuries  back,  and  by  tradition 
now,  the  most  democratic  people  of  the 
world.  But  at  the  same  time,  this  younger 
son  of  a  peer,  or,  still  more  so,  a  lateral  de- 
scendant of  a  great  house  (in  contradistinc- 
tion to  the  sons  of  some  German  baron  or 
count,  who  are  known  as  barons  and  counts 

9 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

always),  may  be  in  danger  of  the  snob 
disease  in  his  social  character  which  always 
threatens  the  parvenu.  I  mean  that  the 
assertiveness  which  is  at  the  l)ottom  of 
snobbishness,  and  which  comes  from  the  in- 
security and  dubiousness  of  social  standing, 
may  attack  him,  because  his  social  advan- 
tages are  not  at  once  realised  and  recognised 
by  all  whom  he  meets." 

"  There  is  a  good  deal  in  what  you  say," 
I  admitted.  "  I  have  often  remarked  such 
an  eifect,  not  only  in  the  Irish  descendant 
of  remote  kings,  but  in  the  immediate  scion 
of  some  great  house  ;  and,  now  I  think  of  it, 
I  should  expect  it  in  the  Consul." 

"  There  was  another  predisposing  cause  of 
the  '  organic  '  order  in  Leatherhead's  case," 
said  mv  friend,  not  lieedino;  mv  remark. 
"  It  was  the  choice  of  his  career.  You  were 
right  in  your  astonishment  that  he  should 
not  have  chosen  the  diplomatic  career.     As  a 

matter  of  fact,  he  was  in  that  service  before. 

10 


RICHARD    LEATHERHEAD 


"  Xow,  with  the  predispositions  of  such  a 
man,  the  diplomatic  service  is  peculiarly 
dano-erous  for  an  Englishman.  An  Enolish- 
man  is  not  natnralhj  a  courtier.  Moreover, 
Avith  centuries  of  parliamentary  government, 
our  court  life  has  lost  its  importance  and 
depth  of  signiticance.  London  is  also  too 
great  and  extensive  a  place  to  make  court 
influence  and  court  tone  prevail.  When, 
therefore,  our  young  Englishman  is  thrown 
into  the  vortex  of  such  life  abroad,  and 
through  sympathy  is  affected  liy  the  tone 
surrounding  him,  he  is  not  prepared  to  re- 
ceive these  impressions  on  the  surface  of 
his  morale;  they  may  then  have  a  deeper 
and  more  lasting  influence  upon  his  character 
and  consequently  upon  his  social  bearing. 
Add  to  this  the  attitude  towards  his  travel- 
ling countrymen  who  may  visit  the  town  at 
which  he  is  stationed,  and  you  have  another 
element  of  danger.     He  may  have  to  present 

them  at  Court   or  to  his   own    circles,    or, 

11 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

which  is  often  the  case,  they  may  inaiiifest  a 
desire  to  be  thus  presented.  It  is  thus  his 
task  to  sum  up  at  once  the  social  status  of 
his  own  countrymen  whom  he  meets,  and  he 
endeavours  to  advance,  or  to  meet  their 
advances,  from  the  very  outset  in  a  manner 
which  shouhl  make  future  action  easy  and 
pleasant,  without  the  possil)ility  of  bitter- 
ness or  a  'scene.'  If  he  has  judgment,  and 
a  good  heart  at  the  ])ottom  of  his  judgment, 
social  sympathy  and  real  sympathy,  —  in 
short,  tact,  — he  will  not  blunder  much  in  this 
direction.  Moreover,  if  he  has  higher  and 
deeper  interests  in  life  they  will  save  him 
from  being  absorbed  or  deepl}-  affected  by 
this  attitude  with  regard  to  people  one  meets 
—  the  '  social '  aspect  will  retain  its  due  pro- 
jjortion.  Bui  if  he  has  not  these  qualities 
and  interests  his  little  soul  will  l)e  eaten 
into,  filled  full  with  this  degrading  aspect 
of  human  life  ;  he  will  not,   as  is   the  case 

with  oui"  best    diplomats,   develop   into  the 

12 


EICHARD    LP:ATHERHEAD 

finest  type  of  the  man  of  the  world,  freoil 
from  British  or  other  provinciality  and  nar- 
rowness, —  but  he  becomes  a  snob  —  like 
Leatherhead." 

Ashe  spoke,  though  I  was  listening  atten- 
tively, he  had  set  me  thinking.  Many  in- 
stances from  my  own  experience,  types  of 
men,  of  social  circles,  of  characteristic  traits, 
passed  vaguely  along  the  outskirts  of  my 
attention,  and  formed  the  fore  and  back 
ground  to  the  central  picture  which  his 
account  brought  before  my  eyes. 

He  suddenly  changed  his  attitude  and  his 
tone.  "  Now,  as  I  warned  you,  this  is  only 
the  more  general  groundwork  in  the  clear-cut 
structure  of  the  Consul's  character.  AVhat 
turned  the  scales  in  his  life  was  apparently 
more  accidental.  It  was  one  act,  seeminolv 
trifling,  in  his  life,  and  the  consequences  of  this 
act,  which  fashioned  his  subsequent  career  and 
brought  the  germs  or  buds  of  his  snobbish- 
ness to  full  and  lasting  flower  and  vitality. 

13 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

"  If  >()u  like  I  will  tell  you  the  story  of 
Leatherhead,  which  consists  of  one  incident. 
It  is  a  moral  story,  tit  for  a  school-hook  or 
a  Sunday  School, — no,  rather  for  a  school 
of  adults  who  are  learning  in  the  constant 
apprenticeship  of  social  life." 

I  begged  him  to  relate  it ;  and,  having 
ordered  some  wine,  and  bringing  some 
English  tobacco,  ^vhich  he  was  longing  for, 
from  my  rooms,  we  settled  down  m  our 
corner  beneath  the  overhanging  palm-leaves, 
at  some  distance  from  the  other  tables,  where 
visitors  were  chattering  in  all  languages,  and 
Maxwell  began  : 

"About  six  years  ago  I  was  at  Athenop- 
olis,  the  capital  of  Roumagaria.  There  was  a 
very  })leasant,  easy-going  life  there,  the  ruler 
himself  being  a  sociable  and  charming  man, 
the  type  of  an  English  club-man ;  while 
with  the  Court,  the  diplomatic  corps,  some 
of  the  superior  native  families  who  had  lived 

abroad,  and  some  decent  resident  foreigners, 

14 


RICHARD    LEATHERHEAD 

a  very  lively,  united,  and  even  interesting- 
social  circle  had  been  formed.  There  were 
balls,  smaller  dances,  musical  evenings,  pic- 
nics, and  all  forms  of  entertainment.  Every- 
body knew  everybody  else  ;  and  there  was 
no  case  in  which  one  had  to  hesitate  in  ask- 
ing people  to  meet  each  other  because  of 
some  disagreement  or  quarrel. 

"  I  was  told  that  this  state  of  aftairs  had 
not  always  existed ;  that,  on  the  contrary, 
but  a  short  time  l)efore,  life  had  not  only 
been  tedious,  but  full  of  acrimony,  petty 
enmities,  and  quarrels.  The  different  sets 
had  not  merely  crystallised  naturally  from 
inner  affinity  or  outer  similarity  of  tastes 
and  occupations,  but  they  had  always  been 
conscious  of  their  setness  and  of  their 
apartness  from  one  another.  And  this  isola- 
tion and  solidarity  of  the  sets,  in  their 
attitude  towards  one  another,  in  no  way 
implied     or     produced     harmonious    unity 

among    the    members    of    the    sets    them- 

15 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 


selves  —  as  little  as  a  state  uianifestiiio- 
Chauvinistic  antaoonism  in  its  torei"!!  affairs 
is  therefore  i)eacefully  united  in  its  home 
life  and  internal  policy.  On  the  contrary, 
everybody  hated  and  was  jealous  of  every- 
Iwdy  else.  In  short,  it  had  been  a  beastly 
hole  to  live  in,  as  my  informant  told  me. 

"  As  a  student  of  the  '  Sociology  of  the 
Surface '  I  was  interested  in  the  phenom- 
enon, and  was  eager  to  discover  the  cause 
of  such  a  marked  and,  as  I  was  told,  al)ru})t 
revolution  for  the  good ;  and  I  began  to 
make  incjuiries  with  a  systematic  and 
thorough  energy  worthy  of  a  more  impor- 
tant subject  —  in  fact,  in  the  same  spirit 
as  the  naturalist  or  the  scientific  historian 
endeavours  to  trace  back  phenomena  and 
events  to  their  first  causes. 

"I  had  long  ago  come  to  the  conclusion 

that  historians,  even  great  ones,   had  been 

misled  by  the  results   of  Hegelianism    and 

Darwinian    evolution    combined     into    what 

16 


RICHARD    LEATHERHEAD 


has  ])een  called  the  historical  method  in 
attaching  too  great  and  too  exclusive  im- 
portance to  the  Zeitiieist  and  general 
broad  movements  as  the  causes  ot"  indi- 
vidual })hen()mena  and  of  events  in  history 
—  nay,  even  of  the  formation  and  develop- 
ment of  individual  character.  And  though 
I  equally  dislielieved  in  the  'biographical ' 
conception  of  history,  which  olitrudes  the 
personal  gossipy  interest — or  inipiisitive- 
ness  —  until  it  stifles  inquiry,  and  bedims 
the  true  world  of  events  and  things,  I  have 
still  come  to  value  more  and  more  the 
supreme  influence  oi permnolltij,  nay,  of  one 
person,  in  fashioning  or  modifying  the  world 
in  which  it  acts.  Cherchez  Vliomme!  even 
more  than  Cherchez  la  femme  1  seemed  to 
me  one  of  the  chief  tasks  of  him  who  de- 
sired to  grasp  the  course  of  social  —  even 
political  —  events,  to  account  for  a  tradition 
established  or  surviving  in  an  institution,  or 

the  tone  in  a  set  or  larger  circle  or  even  a 

17 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

town  or  a  country.  Nay,  as  a  monarchist,  I 
felt  that  the  great  justification  of  monarchy 
was  the  direct,  concentrated,  and  facile 
power  of  a  monarch  to  strike  the  key-note 
of  taste  and  tone  in  the  social  life  of  a 
l)eople  and  to  direct  (through  the  channels 
of  fashion)  the  aspirations  of  society. 

"  All  this  professorial  prelude  is  merely 
meant  to  inform  you  that  I  was  prepared  to 
look  for  the  man  or  ^voman  who  was  at  the 
bottom  of  this  agreeable  change  in  the  social 
life  of  Athenopolis,  and  my  methodical  search 
soon  put  me  upon  the  right  track. 

"  At  first  inquiring  into  the  '  when,'  into 

the  actual  moment,  the  turning-[)oint  in  the 

life   of   this   social  community,   I  found  all 

evidence   pointing    to    the   building   of    the 

Caucaso-Macedonian  Railway  as  the  exactly 

synchronous  event.     I    was   not   astonished 

to  find  that  this  should  mark  such  an  epoch 

in    the    economical    history    of    a    country, 

which,  after  all,  was  small,  with   a  limited 

18 


RICHARD    LEATHERHEAD 

number  of  inhabitants  and  in  a  rudimen- 
tary state  of  coumiercial  and  economical 
prosperity.  The  employment  of  labourers, 
the  importation  of  machinery,  and  with  it 
foreign  supplies  and  luxuries  for  the  staff, 
affected  not  only  the  large  number  of  in- 
digenous peasantry  from  the  villages  through- 
out the  whole  country,  who  souoht  for  and 
found  employment,  l^ut  even  the  merchants 
and  small  tradesmen  all  over  the  land,  — 
not  to  mention  the  great  impulse  which  the 
prospective  opening  out  of  the  country, 
when  once  the  railway  was  finished,  pro- 
duced in  the  mercantile  and  industrial  world, 
as  well  as  in  the  value  of  property  in  the 
capital  and  the  adjoining  seaport  town. 

"  But  what  arrested  my  attention  most  was, 
that  the  change  in  the  social  life  to  which  I 
have  referred  also  corresponded  exactly  to 
the  beginning  of  this  enterprise.  With  this 
clue  I  at  once  hit  upon  the  person,  and  my 

subsequent  experience  and  inquiries  entirely 

19 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

confirmed  my  surmise.  It  was  one  man  ;  and 
this  man  was  an  Enolish  enojneer,  the  chief 
entrusted  with  the  whole  construction  and 
organisation  of  the  railway.  The  first  dinner 
party  followed  by  a  ball  which  I  attended  at 
the  British  legation  had  made  me  acquainted 
with  this  man  ;  and,  though  I  did  not  know 
who  he  was  ( I  thought  he  was  first  secretary 
of  the  legation),  I  at  once  realised  that  he 
was  the  heart  and  soul  of  the  whole  circle. 

"No  one  would  have  been  more  astonished 
than  Gordon  himself,  had  he  been  told  that 
he  w^as  the  social  reformer  of  Athenopolis. 

"  He  was  the  third    son  of  a  Devonshire 

squire,  who  was  a  man  of  some  property  and 

of  high  standing  in  his  county.     His  eldest 

brother  had  now  succeeded  to  the  estates  ; 

his  second  brother  was  in  the  army ;  while 

he  was  originally  destined  for  the  Church 

(an  idea  which  he  soon  relinquished),  then 

prepared  for  the   bar,  and  finally  chose  the 

profession    of    an    engineer.       This    career 

20 


RICHARD    LEATHERHEAD 

of  his  choice  made  him  absolutely  happy, 
and  this  at-one-ness  with  the  main  occupa- 
tion and  duty  of  life  had  no  doul)t  nuich  to 
do  with  the  expression  and  impression  of 
))rightness,  cheerfulness,  and  mental  health 
which  l)eamed  from  him  and  at  once  pene- 
trated those  to  whom  he  spoke  with  a  sense 
of  warm  and  happy  comfort.  Nay,  his 
presence  in  a  room  seemed,  like  the  fresh 
perfume  of  new-mown  hay  and  sweet  simple 
flowers,  to  permeate  the  whole  atmosphere. 
"  He  was  a  living  instance  of  meussancf  in 
corpore  scuio,  I  have  never  yet  met  so  per- 
fect an  illustration  of  this  desirable  state. 
Over  six  feet  in  height  and  very  muscular, 
he  had  been  a  leading  athlete  of  the  all-round 
class  at  his  public  school  and  at  the  Uni- 
versity ;  he  was  a  'Varsity  oar,'  had  his 
'blue'  in  footl)all,  and  'put  the  weight' 
and  '  threw  the  hammer'  for  the  University  ; 
and  though  not  nuich  of  a  horseman  (he  was 

too   big  to  l)uy  ;i  chea])  mount  and  had  not 

21 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

enouii'li  money  to  set  weioht-carriers) ,  he 
was  an  excellent  shot.  With  all  this  he  was  a 
o-ood  scholar  while  at  school,  and,  owing  to 
his  undisputed  '  swelldom  '  as  an  athlete,  he 
did  much,  as  a  musician  and  draughtsman, 
to  bring  music  and  drawing  into  fashion 
while  he  w^as  the  captain  of  the  school. 
At  Cambridoe  he  had  worked  a  o-ood  deal, 
considerino-  how  much  time  was  absorbed 
by  rowing  and  sports,  and  had  succeeded  in 
becoming  a  high  wrangler  —  though,  no 
doubt,  those  were  wrong  who  maintained 
that,  but  for  the  attention  he  had  given  to 
athletics,  he  mi a'ht  have  been  senior  wranoler. 
After  much  hesitation  and  self-questioning 
he  at  last  decided  upon  the  career  of  a  civil 
engineer,  as  combining  an  active  life  in  the 
open  air  —  possibly  of  adventure  —  with  the 
application  of  his  studies  and  undoubted 
intellectual  abilities  ;  and  in  this  career  he 
had  been  eminently  successful.  He  had 
done    subordinate  woi'l<    for    several    years. 


RICHARD    L  E  A  T  II  E  R  H  E  A  D 

This  had  not  only  oiven  him  a  oood  trainino-  in 

his  profession,  but  had  also  taken  him  all  over 

the  world, — to  India,  South  Africa,  and  South 

America,  —  and  had  developed    his  natural 

talent  for  dealing  with  people  of  all  classes. 

"  Xow,  at  the  early  age  of  thirtj- -three  he 

had  l)een   entrusted,  as   chief  engineer  and 

business  manager,  with  the   important  task 

and  great  responsibilit}^  of  the  construction 

of  the  Caucaso-Macedonian  Railway,  a  work 

which  he    was    now    pushing  forward    with 

firreat  energy  and  success,  and  with  which  no 

social   attractions  were  allowed  to  interfere. 

It    was    this  earnestness   (to  use  this  good 

English,  but  unfortunately  hackneyed  word) 

which   no  doulit  underlay  the   respect  which 

always    accompanied     the    fondness    of    his 

friends  and  accjuaintances.     The  secretaries 

and  attacli^s  of  legations,  the  jeunesse  doree 

as  well  as  the  vieiUesse  d'or,  attracted  by  the 

similarity    of    tastes    which    l)rought    them 

too-ether,   felt  the   contrast  between  his  life 

23 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

and  their  more  idle,  unproductive,  or  unsys- 
tematic lives,  and  were  unconsciously  im- 
pressed, at  times  even  intimidated,  liy  it  — 
though  he,  on  his  part,  had  managed  to  keep 
it  in  its  proper  place,  and  never  to  ol)trude 
it  to  the  discomfort  of  the  idle  and  the  evoca- 
tion of  unfavourable  comparison. 

"  Here,  too,  firmness  of  purpose  and  life 
system  strengthened  tact.  He  had  quietly, 
and  without  assertion,  or  roUing-up  of  sleeves, 
subdivided  his  life  of  work  and  play,  so  that 
they  never  interfered  with  one  another  and 
suffo-ested  out-of-placeness.  Until  three 
o  clock  in  the  afternoon  it  was  well  known 
and  understood  that  he  was  not  to  be  seen. 
During  these  hours  he  worked  incessantly 
.  at  his  office  and  finished  his  day's  work  with- 
out worry  and  fussiness  ;  and  when  this  was 
done  he  took  his  exercise,  paid  his  visits, 
and  was  quite  free  for  social  enjo}  inent  the 
whole  afternoon  and  evening. 

"The silent  influence  which  this  l)iight  ])er- 

24 


RICHARD    LEATHERHEAD 


sonality  was  thus  to  exercise  had  l)een  pre- 
pared for  and  made  easy  by  the  enthusiastic 
praise  whicli  young  Hargood,  the  second 
secretary  of  the  British  legation,  had  hivished 
upon  him  before  his  arrival  at  Athenopolis. 
And  as  Hargood  had  been  the  most  popular 
and  repandu  man  there,  it  paved  the  way  for 
a  cordial  reception  and  a  favouraljle  predis- 
position when  he  did  arrive.  Hargood  had 
been  his  fag  at  school  and  had  carried  his 
warm  admiration  fur  him  through  the  Uni- 
versity into  after  life. 

"In  spite  of  what  I  have  just  said,  people 
are  also  critically  predisposed  when  they 
meet  a  person  whose  praises  have  been  sung 
before  thev  have  seen  him,  and  i\\e\  then 
resent  his  shortcomings  with  reactionary  in- 
tolerance. But  when  the  reality  comes  up 
to,  and  even  surpasses,  their  expectations, 
admiration  and  the  o-ratified,  nav,  sfrateful, 
sense  of  hope  realised  warm  them  to  in- 
creased friendliness  and  atfection. 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 


"  Now  you  can  understand  how  this  sunny 
nature,  burstino-  in  u[)()n  the  perturbed  and 
cloudy  liovizon  of  a  provincial  society,  should 
cause  the  mist  of  discontent  to  roll  away 
and  make  the  landscape  below  appear  Ijright, 
peaceful,  and  cheery. 

"  Shortly     after     his     arrival     everybody 
agreed  in  praising  him  ;  and  the  fact  that  an 
eno-ineer  was  a    new  and  mysterious  voca- 
tion  to  them,   which  they  never   associated 
with   social  amenities,    intensified  this   sur- 
prise and  satisfaction.     But  if  surprise  had 
summarised  their  emotions,  the  effect  w^ould 
not  have  lasted.     The  great  point  was,  that 
they  w^ere  right  in  admiring,  and  that  sur- 
prise was  thus  gradually  raised  and  merged 
into  its  older  and  nobler    sister-emotion  — 
admiration. 

"  It  may  have  been  his  versatilit}'  and 
social  facility,  together  with  his  tine  appear- 
ance, which  made  him  popular.  But  I  be- 
lieve that    his    influence  was    derived    from 

26 


RICHARD    LEATHERHEAD 

the  o-enuine  kindness  and  ooodness  which 
covered,  thoui>h  it  was  well  o^rounded  in,  his 
firmness,  and  strength  of  character.  He  in- 
sisted—  without  manifest  insistence  —  upon 
only  seeing  the  good  in  people  and  things. 
The  faults  and  scandals,  when  they  had  to 
be  seen,  appealed  to  his  humourous  side, 
and  he  wt)uld  naturally  point  to  this,  causing 
people  to  laugh  them  away,  and  frequently 
to  lauo-h  at  themselves. 

"  It  was  thus  that  he  became  essential  to 
the  social  life  of  the  place.  No  entertain- 
ment seemed  complete  and  fully  en  train  if 
he  was  not  there  ;  while  in  the  more  inti- 
mate relations  of  this  life,  lighter  and  graver 
matters  were  often  referred  to  him,  in 
settling  which  he  never  assumed  the  attitude 
of  a  Solomonian  judge  or  ai'l)iter. 

"  There  were  two  points  in  (xordon  whicli 
went  far  to  favour,  if  not  to  produce,  the 
influence  which  he  exercised.  The  first 
favourable    element    was   the    fact    that    his 

27 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

work  and  career  were  foreign  to  tlie  class 
among-  which  he  lived,  so  that  there  was  no 
possibility  of  professional  jealousy  ;  while 
the  fact  that,  though  he  was  in,  he  was  not 
of,  their  set  and  life,  made  them  overcome  all 
reticence  with  him,  and  enable  him  to  oive 
a  neutral  and  disinterested,  though  none  the 
less  sympathetic  smoothing  touch  to  all 
difficulties. 

"The  other  point  was  of  greater  impor- 
tance. Gordon  had  the  quality  of  a  leader  of 
men,  which  implies  not  only  the  power  of 
rapid  arrangement,  coordination,  and  sub- 
ordination of  facts  and  motives,  —  the  power 
of  invention,  organisation,  and  direction,  — 
but  a  power  of  self-effacement  at  certain 
points.  And  as  this  was  at  the  bottom  of  his 
success  in  the  more  serious  work  of  his 
career,  so  it  also  made  him  the  uncrowned 
king  of  this  little  social  world. 

"  His  fertile  and  facile  faculty  of  suo^west- 
ing  all  forms  of  entertainment,  of  getting  out 

28 


KI  CHARD    LP:ATHERHEAD 


of  a  difficulty  and  of  lidiiiix  over  a  contre- 
feijqjs  was  used  gracefully,  his  suggestions 
were  thrown  out  lightly  at  the  proper  time 
and  to  the  pro})er  persons,  and  then  the 
matter  was  left  in  their  hands.  He  never 
became  the  social  '  leader  of  cotillons,'  the 
man  who  is  in  evidence  in  small  matters. 
He  thus  avoided  any  appeal  to  petty  rivalry 
and  jealousy  among  the  men,  while  he 
maintained  among  all  the  character  of  a 
serious  and  di^niticd  man. 

"  More  efficient  than  all,  as  underlying  thi.' 
line  of  conduct,  was  the  fact  that  it  was  the 
outcome  of  a  natural  instinct  and  true  im- 
pulse in  a  well-balanced  and  unselfish  nature, 
and  did  not  spring  from  direct  thought  or 
policy. 

"  I  hope  you  can  understand  how  such  a 

man   should  gain  the  ear  and  the  heart  of 

people,  and   should   by  himself  modify  the 

tone  of  the  society  among  which  he  lives. 

"A    real  jovial  tone  of  camaraderie  was 

29 


s 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

further  intuf^ed  into  Athenopolis  society  l^y 
the  entei'tainnients  oiven  at  the  head( i uurters 

~  -I 

of  the  railway  itself. 

"  Gordon  had  grouped  around  him  a  number 
of  engineers  and  assistants  of  varied  types 
and  attainments,  but  all  good,  nice  fellows. 
He  had  made  it  a  primary  condition  liefore 
accepting  the  post  that  he  should  have  the 
final  decision  in  the  appointment  of  his 
subordinates.  And  he  had  thus  collected  a 
band  of  excellent  Englishmen  about  him, 
some  of  Avhoni  were  men  of  real  refinement 
and  culture.  They  formed  a  compact  body, 
in  which,  with  a  warm  esprit  de  corps, 
Gordon  was  recognised  as  the  absolute 
chief.  They  were  all  deeply  attached  to 
him. 

"  So  pronounced  was  this  corporate  feeling 

that    on   several    occasions    Gordon   had    to 

exert  himself  to  counteract  amono-  his  men 

a  combative  spirit  of  opposition  to  the  rest 

of  Athenopolis  society.     This  was  especially 

30 


RICHARD    LEATHERHEAD 

evoked  when  they  coiLsidered  their  standing 
or  their  claims  to  rccoonition,  above  all  in 
the  person  of  their  chief,  slighted.  They 
winced  at  seeing  Gordon  seated  l>elo\v  the 
youngest  secretary  of  legation,  the  result 
of  the   official   etiquette  of  the  i)lace. 

"  Gordon  took  a  purely  common-sense  view 
of  such  matters,  and  laughed  away  their 
unimportance.  He  said  that  in  heaven, 
he  had  no  doubt,  Thompson,  by  thirty  years 
his  senior,  would  certainly  sit  at  the  head 
of  the  table,  not  he.  But  he  and  they 
respected  Thompson  and  his  grey  hair  and 
noble  heart  none  the  less  for  holding  the 
lieutenancy  to  his  captaincy.  And  so  he 
succeeded  in  smoothing  out  the  ruffles  in 
their  feelings. 

"Among  these  men  there  were  several  who 
sang  well.  Of  an  evening  they  would  prac- 
tise glees  and  comic  songs,  while  a  good 
pianist  and  violinist  provided  more  serious 
music.     After  music,    somebody   would   sit 

31 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

down  at  the  ])iano,  and  they  would  have 
impromptu  dances.  They  had  even  given 
a  performance  of  '  nigger-minstrels '  and  a 
general  variety  entertainment,  which  was  so 
successful  that,  for  the  l)enetit  of  a  chari- 
table institution,  they  had  repeated  it  in 
})ublic.  The  reputation  of  the  amusing 
evenings  in  Gordon's  house  had  reached  the 
palace  ;  and  the  family  of  the  ruling  prince 
were  anxious  to  join  the  Y)arty.  On  several 
occasions  they  had  honoured  the  engineers 
with  their  company,  assuring  Gordon  after- 
wards that  they  had  rarely  enjoyed  anything 
so  much ;  which  was  no  doubt  true,  con- 
sidering their  life  of  slowness  and  dulness 
coupled  with  formality. 

"  A  new  element  was  added  to  the  hospi- 
tality of  Gordon's  house  with  the  arrival  of 
his  mother.  As  Gordon's  personality  had 
always  kept  the  joviality  within  bounds,  the 
presence    of    this    dear    old     lady    did    not 

modify    the    tone    in    this    respect.     But   it 

32 


RICHARD    LEATHERHEAD 

added  a  certain  touch  of  domesticity  and 
of  kindly  grace  and  dignity ;  while  the  in- 
ternal arrangements  of  the  household  were 
inspired  with  a  sense  of  orderliness  which 
no  bachelor's  home  can  acquire  fully.  Her 
presence  was  the  final  death-blow  to  the 
gossiping  and  scandal-mongering  tone  which 
had  prevailed  in  the  Pre-Gordonian  period 
of  Athenopolis.  No  gossip  was  heard  here  : 
the  tripotar/es  which  were  the  staple  of  the 
former  life  were  banished  ;  nor  did  anybody 
dare  to  make  doulitfully  witty  and  over- 
gallant  alhisions  in  the  presence  of  this 
English  matron. 

"  Without  being  of  the  prudish  order,  she 
still  had  an  atmosphere  of  the  quiet  and 
clean  English  country  house  about  her  —  a 
sense  of  spotless  crisp  linen,  neither  loose- 
tissued  homespun  or  soft  serge,  nor  stiff 
broadcloth,  nor  rich  velvet  or  brocades  or 
shiny  satin. 

"  Mother  and  son  differed  most  in  that  she 

33 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

was  wanting  in  that  keen  sense  of  humour 
which  was  so  striking  a  feature  in  him. 
Though  she  had  mucli  fun  in  her  and 
could  laugh  heartily  at  some  good-natured 
pleasantry  or  a  truly  comic  situation,  her 
moral  and  relio^ious  bias  was  so  strono;  that 
it  precluded  the  lighter  power  of  ignoring 
the  ever-present  '  ought  to  be  '  in  favour  of 
the  full  perception  of  contrasts,  the  simple 
relish  of  unexpected  drolleries  in  actual  life, 
without  any  thought  of  altering  and  improv- 
ing, —  all  of  which  is  essential  to  humour. 
He  had  no  doubt  inherited  his  earnestness 
from  her ;  but  other  qualities  must  have 
come  from  his  father,  or  some  other  an- 
cestor, perhaps  from  his  early  education  or 
later  training. 

"There  was  one  point  in  which  his  own 
sense  of  humour  forsook  him  —  in  his  regard 
and  sensitiveness  for  his  mother.  He  could 
never  consider  her  with  the  unpreoccupied 

equanimity  essential    to    humour.     He  was 

34 


RICHARD    LEATHERHEAD 

in  no  way  sensitive  or  self-conscious  where 
he  alone  Avas  concerned.  He  never  ex})ected 
a  slight  or  an  affront,  nor  did  he  claijn  or 
crave  for  special  attention.  It  is  this  self- 
conscious  cravino-  which  disturbs  the  sensi- 
tive  mind,  and  in  its  turn  produces  the 
pangs  of  neglect.  His  natural  di<rnity 
always  accompanied  his  kindly  afia))ility, 
and  he  was  the  last  man  whom  anybody 
would  dream  of  snul)l)ing.  Hence  the  free- 
dom and  total  absence  of  shyness  in  him. 

"  Since  the  arrival  of  his  mother,  however, 
a  careful  observer  might  have  noticed  a 
slight  constraint  and  an  occasional  expect- 
ant anxiety  in  him.  He  seemed  to  watch 
the  manner  in  which  she  Avas  approached  or 
received,  and  he  appeared  on  the  alert  to 
resent  any  encroachment  upon  the  respect 
due  to  her.  His  greatest  delight  was  to 
watch  her  in  the  company  of  young  people, 
especially    girls.       The     young     ladies     of 

Athenopolis    were    all    drawn   to   her,  they 

35 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

worshipped  her,  as  she  loved  young  girls. 
They  made  a  confidant  of  her,  and  were 
always  about  her,  showing  her  every  atten- 
tion. Thus  the  Gordon  house  became  a 
centre  for  young  girls,  who  came  freely, 
a  state  of  aifairs  hitherto  unheard  of  in 
Athenopolis.  Still  more  uncommon  was  the 
fact  that  it  led  to  no  gossipy  comment. 

"  Mrs.  Gordon's  stay  at  Athenopolis  was 
drawino-  to  an  end.  ^V  short  visit  to  her 
boy  had  been  prolonged  by  months  in  re- 
sponse to  his  urgent  entreaties,  in  which  all 
his  friends  joined  him,  and  the  assurance 
that  she  was  essential  to  his  comfort  and 
well-being.  But  now  she  had  really  to  re- 
turn to  her  Eniilish  home  and  to  her  other 
'  children.' 

"And  now  I  am  coming  back  to  Leather- 
head,  whose  story  you  wished  to  know.  I 
have  bored  you  with  a  long  preamble.  But 
I   could    not   convey  to   you  the   important 

bearings    of  a   comparatively  trivial    event 

36 


RICHARD    LEATHERHEAD 

upon  the  life  of  the  Consul  Avithout  bring- 
ing home  to  you,  in  a  halting  and  imperfect 
manner,  the  other  chief  actor  in  the  incident 
and  the  miJipn  in  which  it  took  place.  Now 
for  Leatherhead's  rudeness  : 

"On  a  ])eautiful  warm  spring  afternoon, 
about  six  3'ears  ago,  Gordon  had  driven  his 
mother  and  an  English  friend  of  the  family 
who  was  staying  with  them  to  the  '  Fair 
Waters,'  the  favourite  drive  of  the  Athenop- 
olis  heaii  monde.  Between  three  and  live 
all  the  town  walked,  rode,  or  drove  ak)ng 
the  road,  })lanted  with  a  fine  avenue  of  trees, 
to  this  lovely  little  park,  — if  one  could  call  it 
so,  — with  shady  walks  and  seats  by  the  side 
of  the  pretty  little  stream,  quite  an  oasis  in 
this  parched  country. 

"This   was   the    Park  and    the    Row   and 

the  Bois   de  Boulogne   of  Athenopolis,  and 

it  was  here  that  everyl)ody  met  everybody 

else. 

37 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

"  Gordon  and  his  party  had  left  their  car- 
riao;e  on  the  road  and  had  seated  themselves 
on  a  bench  ]jy  the  stream  in  the  shade  of  a 
plane-tree,  at  a  short  distance  from  which  a 
foot-path  wound  its  way  between  shrubs  and 
trees.  Most  of  the  promenaders  who  passed 
near  the  bench  bowed  to  Gordon  and  his 
mother,  and  some  came  up  to  exchange  a 
few  words  of  m-eetino-.  All  these  Gordon  or 
his  mother  presented  to  their  guest. 

"  He  w^as  not  only  a  school-fellow  of  Gor- 
don's, but  was  the  son  of  a  dear  friend  of 
Mrs.  Gordon.  His  name  was  Huntley,  and 
he  was  a  Fellow  and  Tutor  of  one  of  the 
Oxford  colleges. 

"  Presently  they  saw,  advancing  along  the 
path,  Leatherhead  with  the  pretty  Countess 
Ribera,  the  wife  of  the  Spanish  Minister. 
She  was  an  attractive  and  flighty  little 
person,  and  Leatherhead  had  been  paying- 
marked  attention  to  her.  They  were  always 
seen  together.     Huntley  seemed   interested 

38 


EICHARD    LEATHERHEAD 

ill  her,  especially  as  his  brother  was  at  the 
British  Embassy  at  Madrid ;  and  when  he 
had  heard  her  name  he  was  anxious  to  make 
her  acquaintance,  as  his  brother  was  a 
friend  of  her  family  and  often  spoke  of  the 
evenings  he  spent  at  their  house. 

"  Mrs.  Gordon,  in  whom  the  desire  to  be 
of  service  in  any  form  was  a  predominant 
feature,  at  once  proposed  to  make  him  ac- 
quainted with  her.  Gordon  felt  a  certain 
discomfort,  almost  a  foreboding,  and  said 
hastily  : 

"'We  shall  meet  them  at  the  leo-ation  this 
evening ;  there  is  no  use  in  talking  to  them 
now.' 

"Of  all  the  people  in  Athenopolis,  Leather- 
head  was  the  one  he  liked  least  —  in  fact,  he 
had  to  overcome  a  strong  prejudice  against 
him  to  be  at  all  civil.  As  it  was,  he  avoided 
familiarity  or  intimacy  as  much  as  possible. 

"  Leatherhead  and  the  countess  were  walk- 
ing with  books  in   their  hands,    into  which 

39 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THIXGS 

they  were  every  now  and  then  looking,  and 
then  would  talk  to  one  another.  When  they 
drew  near  to  the  Gordons  they  chose  tiie 
right-hand  hifurcation  of  the  path,  which 
ran  l)ehind  the  bench,  at  a  greater  distance 
from  it  than  the  straight  one,  which  passed 
close  to  and  in  front  of  the  seat. 

"  Gordon  was  momentarily  relieved  when 
he  saw  this  manoeuvre  ;  but  his  anxiety  was 
intensified  when  he  saw  his  mother  rise  from 
her  seat  and,  turning  to  her  guest,  sav  : 

" '  Come,  Mr.  Huntley,  we'll  catch  them 
there.'  With  this  she  stepped  on  the  grass 
and,  lifting  her  skirts,  advanced  towards 
the  })ath  which  the  couple  were  pursuing. 
The  ground  was  rough  and  her  advance,  half 
a  walk,  half  a  run,  irregular.  She  had  lifted 
her  skirts  rather  high,  and  she  wore  heelless 
black  list  shoes,  with  elastic  sides,  and  white 
stockino-s. 

"She    was  so   intent    u[)on  her  })urpose  of 
giving   pleasure  to   hei-  guest  that   she   did 

40 


RICHARD    LEATHERHEAD 

not  hear   or  heed  her   son's  '  Dear  mother, 
please  don't '  —  and  she  trotted  on. 

"  At  this  moment  Gordon  coukl  not  help 
perceiving  the  o-rotesqueness  of  the  old 
lady's  appearance  (generally  so  dianilied), 
as  she  walked  on  ra})idly  with  uneven  gait, 
Huntley  trying  to  maintain  some  dignity  in 
his  long  stride,  and  it  pained  him  deeply  — 
he  almost  felt  that  he  was  conmiitting  tilial 
sacrilege  in  at  all  perceiving  this. 

"It  all  tended  to  make  his  senses  keenly 
on  the  alert,  and  gave  him  something  like 
second  sight.  He  afterwards  almost  l>e- 
lieved  that  he  had  realised  the  whole  scene 
before  it  happened.  At  all  events,  he  felt 
convinced  that  he  heard  in  his  ear  what 
Leatherhead  rapidly  whispered  to  his  com- 
})anion  when  he  had  looked  up  and  seen  the 
old  lady  advance. 

"'There  comes  Gordon's  old  l)()re  of  a 
mother,  flust  leave  her  to  me.  You'll  see 
how  I'll   get   rid   of  her.' 

41 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

"  Gordon  followed  reluctantly,  increasing 
his  pace  as  he  saw  his   mother  near  them. 

"  They  did  not  take  their  eyes  from  their 
books,  even  though  they  could  not  possibly 
pretend  any  longer  not  to  see  her. 

"  When  the  old  lady  was  close  to  them, 
followed  by  Huntley,  the  Countess  looked 
up  from  her  Ijook,  and,  without  extending 
her  hand,  she  bowed  and  smiled  in  a  stiff 
and  awkward  manner. 

"  Mrs.  Gordon,  who  was  panting  for  breath 
with  her  rapid  advance,  was  just  saying  : 

"'My  dear  Countess,  I  have  l)rought'  — 
when  Leatherhead,  who  had  studiously  kept 
his  eyes  in  his  book,  at  last  looked  up,  bow- 
ing coldly  and  slightly,  and,  with  a  hard 
voice,  he  said  slowly  and  distinctly  : 

"  'The  Countess  is  g-ood  enough  to  o-ive  me 

a  Spanish  lesson ; '  and  with  this  he  again 

looked  in  his  book  and  walked  on,  saying  over 

his   shoulder  to    the   Countess,  '  We   really 

must  not  lose  the  thread,  Countess  ;  come  on.' 

42 


RICHARD    LEATHERHEAD 

"  The  tone  of  voice  and  the  whole  manner 
were  absolutely  witherino;  with  their  delib- 
erate,  cold,  strong  distinctness  and  emphasis. 

"  The  old  lady  at  last  perceived  she  was  de 
(rop,  and,  as  if  struck  in  the  face  with  the 
rude  blow,  stood  in  helpless  misery,  while 
she  grew  pale.  ]Mr.  Huntley  was  quite  red  in 
the  face  and  stood  in  awkward  helplessness." 

"  And  Gordon  "  — 

"  He  had  arrived  in  time  to  hear  and  see 
Leatherhead's  affront  to  his  mother.  For  the 
moment,  his  muscles  contracted  for  a  bound 
forward  to  knock  him  down  there  and  then. 
But  the  Countess  stood  between  him  and 
the  brute,  who  had  sent  his  slug-shot  from 
the  side  of  his  companion  while  they  were 
already  both  moving  forward,  looking  over 
his  shoulder  past  the  Countess  in  the  direc- 
tion of  the  old  lady. 

"  Gordon  stood  transtixed.  What  was  he 
to  do  ?  The  thoughts  rushed  rapidly  through 
his  brain,  though  he  felt  faint ;  but,  with  that 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

clearness  which  marked  his  action  through- 
out, he  realised  that  to  make  a  great  scene  in 
public,  in  the  presence  of  his  mother  and  of 
other  people  who  were  near,  was  impossible. 

"  Mrs.  Gordon  had  now  turned  and  grew 
still  more  distressed  when  she  saw  her  son  and 
the  plight  he  was  in.  All  other  feelings 
vanished  in  her  anxiety  for  him. 

" '  Dear  Richard,  you  are  not  well,'  she 
said  with  faltering  voice. 

"  '  No,  he  certainly  does  not  look  well,'  said 
Huntley,  who  was  the  iirst  to  regain  his  self- 
possession.  'Come  on,  old  fellow,'  he 
uro;ed,  takino;  his  arm,  and  thus  he  led  away 
mother  and  son. 

"  As  the  three  drove  home  they  did  not 
speak  a  word,  and  each  was  Avrapt  in  his 
own  thoughts,  which  were  seething  with  the 
turmoil  of  the  late  commotion. 

"  Old  Mrs .  Gordon  cast  anxious  and  sorrow- 
ful glances  at  her  son.     The  hot  indignation 

against  the  brutal  oifenders  was  almost  for- 

44 


RICHARD    LEATHERMEAD 


o-otten  in  her  worry  at  his  distress ;  and 
with  it  came  a  sickening  sense  of  self-re- 
proach, that  she  had  been  the  cause  of  all 
this.  She  now  l^egan  to  remember  his 
opposition  to  her  advances ;  she  clearly 
recalled  and  realised  what  merely  struck  her 
ear  without  penetrating  to  her  attention 
before,  namely,  the  anxious  beseeching  tone 
in  which  he  had  twice  implored  her  not  to 
go ;  and  she  could  hardly  refrain  from  weep- 
ing with  a  sense  of  impotent  regret,  self- 
reproach,  and  self-abasement.  The  general 
mood  which  came  to  her  so  often  and  tilled 
her  iH'ight  old  age  with  deep  melancholy, 
which  only  the  constant  demonstrative  assur- 
ances of  her  children  could  counteract,  — 
the  consciousness  that  she  was  a  hindrance 
rather  than  a  help  to  the  younger  genera- 
tion, —  seemed  to  enwrap  and  dull  the 
memory  of  the  detinite  sharp  pain  she  had 
just  felt,  and  to  intensify  her  general  mood, 

causing  it  to  permeate  her  whole  soul. 

45 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

"  Huntley,  though  at  tirst  muttering  '  The 
brute  !  '  again  and  again  between  his  teeth, 
soon  fell  under  the  sway  of  his  theoretical 
bias  ;  and,  as  an  historian,  and  one  interested 
in  the  different  customs  of  countries,  he  was 
pursuing  in  his  mind  the  difi'erence  l)etween 
French  and  English  manners,  and  was  real- 
isino-  how  a  Frenchman  with  the  same  moral 
nature  as  Leatherhead  would  have  acted  : 
how  his  formal  politeness,  the  grace  of  his 
bow,  and  the  phrases  he  w^ould  use  would 
take  the  dull  thick  thud  and  the  awful  stun 
from  the  aftront.  He  reflected  how  useful 
training  in  surface  politeness  was  to  replace 
the  refinement  and  education  of  the  heart, 
the  absence  of  which,  in  a  coarse  English- 
man, made  him  blunder  into  exaggerated 
cruelty,  which  made  him  appear  even  more 
heartless  than  he  really  was. 

"Gordon  himself  sat  immovable.  Gradu- 
ally, however,  the  worried  and    distressed 

look  of  his  face  seemed  to  make  way  for  a 

46 


RICHARD    LEATHERHEAD 


clearer  expression,  without  dispelling  the 
fixed  frown.  On  the  contrary,  with  the 
increasing  light  in  his  expression,  the  serious 
and  fixed  gaze  became  more  set,  the  lips 
were  more  firmly  pressed  together,  and  the 
calmness  was  one  of  combative  resolution. 
But  the  normal  colour  returned ;  and  his 
anxious  mother  was  nuich  relieved  when, 
upon  reaching  their  house,  he  helped  her  out 
of  the  carriage  and  said  in  his  natural  voice, 
'  Come  on,  mammie  dear ! '  an  expression 
he   only  used  in  high  good  humour, 

"  Without  saying  anything  more,  he  led  her 
to  her  room,  opened  her  bedroom  door,  kissed 
her,  and  said:  'Now  take  a  good  rest.'  He 
then  turned  from  her  and  went  to  his  study. 

"Here  he  at  once  sat  down  delilierately  and 
calmly  and  wrote  a  note,  which  he  addressed 
and  sealed  quietly,  rang  for  his  serv^ant,  and 
said:  'Take  this  to  the  British  legation  at 
once.' 

"  The  note  merely  expressed  his  regret  that 

47 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

both  he  and  Mrs.  Gordon  were  unable  to 
keep  their  engagement  at  the  legation  that 
evening.     He  o-ave  no  reason. 

"  He  then  wrote  several  more  notes  begging 
off  the  enoaoements  he  had  incurred  else- 
where  for  the  coming  days. 

"The  next  day  his  friend  Hargood,  of  the 
British  legation,  called  and  had  it  out  with 
him  ;  l)ut  he  soon  found  that  he  wasted  his 
energy  in  trying  to  mollify  Gordon,  who 
expressed  his  fixed  determination  not  to  go 
anywhere  where  he  was  likely  to  meet 
Leatherhead. 

"  Then  followed  a  letter  from  Leatherhead 

in  which,  in  his  own   name  and  that  of  the 

Countess    Ribera,     he    apologised  for    their 

unintentional    rudeness   to    Mrs,   Gordon  — 

'  They    were    so    much    engrossed    in    their 

occupation  of  teaching  and  learning  Spanish 

that  it  caused  them   for  once   to   forget  the 

respect  and   tteep   regard  wdiich  they  ought 

to  feel,  and  felt,  for  Mrs.  Gordon.' 

48 


RICHARD    LEATHERHEAD 

''  Gordon's   answer    to  this   Avas  short  and 
decisive.     He  had   commnnicated,  he   said, 
the  contents  of  the  letter  to  Mrs.  Gordon, 
who  accepted  their  apologies.     He  hinisell", 
nowever,  found   it   desirable  never  to  know 
or  to  meet  people  who  were  capable  of  such 
actions  ;   and  he  regretted  to  have   to  reply 
that  he  wished  to  discontinue  the  ac([uaint- 
ance   with   ]Mr.  Leatherhead.      He   was  glad 
to  tind  that,  as  the  Countess  Ribera  was  not 
a    man,    ]\Ir.    Leatherhead's    writin<r   in  her 
name   relieved  him  from  the  painful  neces- 
sity of  writing  to  her  in  the   same   strain. 
"  Gordon  was  not  seen  at  any  of  the  houses 
where  he  had  l)efore  been  a  constant  guest, 
and  the   matter  began  to  be  talked   aljout. 
But  as  yet  it  was  only  the  rumbling  preced- 
ing the  outbreak  of  a  storm. 

"It was  then  that  the  British  Minister  him- 
self called  on  Gordon.  They  were  very 
fond  of  each  other,  and  the  older  man  was 

one    of    Mrs.    Gordon's    most    devoted    ad- 
it) 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

niirers.  On  this  occasion  he  came  with  lii.s 
arms  full  of  flowers  for  her,  and  he  at  first 
])aid  her  a  visit  in  the  morning,  asking,  with 
many  apologies,  to  be  allowed  to  break  in 
upon  the  working-hours  of  her  son.  Of 
course  he  did  not  mention  a  ^vord  of  the 
aflair  or  the  object  of  the  morning  call  to 
the  mother. 

"  He  was  not  only  a  thorough  man  of  the 
world,  but  he  was  a  man  of  both  deep  and 
refined  feelings  ;  and  he  very  soon  realised 
that  the  mission  which  he  had  undertaken 
was  not  to  l)e  successful,  and  he  thus  de- 
sisted from  furthei"  pressure.  He  had  be- 
gun shyly  to  refer  to  the  incident  with  the 
deep  regret  which  it  caused  him,  and  Gor- 
don had  at  once  helped  him  to  talk  of  it 
quite  freely.  When  he  proposed  his  plan, 
that  he  would  now  ask  Mrs.  Gordon  to  re- 
ceive Leatherhead  and  the  Countess,  who 
wished  to  call  on  her  and  make  their  per- 
sonal apologies,  Gordon  cut  in  with  a  quiet, 

50 


RICHARD    LEATHERHEAD 

decided    tone,    and  showed  him  the  futility 
of  such  an  attempt. 

"'I  have  thought  it  all  over  maturely,' 
Gordon  had  said,  '  and  I  have  come  to  a 
conclusion  and  an  absolute  decision.  Let 
me  make  it  clear  to  you. 

" '  You  see  it  is  not  only  the  insiiU  it  is 
the  act  that  guides  me  in  my  judgment  and 
conduct.  The  insult  can,  and  oug-ht  to  l)e, 
forgiven  when  an  apology  is  made  ;  but  an 
act  emanating  from  rational  and  responsible 
beings  cannot  be  forgotten  or  ignored  as  an 
index  to  their  character. 

"  '  I  can  only  say  to  you  that  I  do  not  wish 
to  know  or  to  be  in  the  same  room  with  a 
man  capable  of  such  brutality  and  cruelty. 
I  feel  convinced  that  had  I  been  a  mere 
witness  to  such  an  affront  offered  to  a 
stranger  I  should  have  felt  the  same  re- 
pugnance to  meeting  him,  a  revulsion  which 
I    could    hardly     overcome,  —  almost    like 

physical  disgust  which  produces  nausea. 

51 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

" '  Now,  you  may  say  that  one  has  frequently 
in  life  to  overcome  one's  feelino-g  of  discom- 
fort,  and  to  meet  people  who  bore  or  even 
disgust  one,  —  that  society  could  not  get  on 
if  each  one  of  us  manifested  his  personal 
aversions  in  so  effective  and  exclusive  a 
manner. 

"  '  But  here  is  the  main  stumblino-.block  to 
my  meeting  Leatherhead  again,  because  the 
general  social  as  well  as  the  personal  view 
of  the  matter  points  in  the  same  direction. 
If  I  believed  that  society  could  not  get  on  if 
everybody  acted  as  I  propose  to  act  in  this 
case  I  should  overcome  my  personal  repug- 
nance, and  meet  Leatherhead.  But  that  is 
just  what  I  do  not  believe.  I  believe,  on 
the  contrary,  that  society  cannot  get  on 
properly  unless  we  all  do  resent  such  actions 
in  a  consistent  and  decisive  manner. 

"  '  It  is  very  difficult  for  me  to  explain  my- 
self, and  I  do  not  know  whether  you  will 
follow    me.       Please    do    not    think    me    a 

52 


RICHARD    LEATHERHEAD 

pedantic  dreamer,  a  prig,   from  what  I  am 

now  sayino-.     But  I  hold  that  we  are  bound 

to  take  a    ])road,  general,    and    impersonal 

view  of  our  actions  at  times,   in  cases  when 

our  natural  feelings  and  ordinary  hahits   of 

decent  life  leave  us  in  doubt  as  to  what   is 

right.       We    must    then    take    the    broader 

social  aspect  and  bearings    of   our  actions. 

If  we  do  not    do  this   w^e    shall    be    guided 

merely  by  sellishness  or  personal,  irrational 

impulse.     I  suppose  every  decent  man  has, 

deep   down  in  him,   a  general  desire  to  do 

the  right  thing  —  is  made  to  feel  at  times  that 

he  is  an  agent,  however  small  an  individual, 

a  mite,   in  the  great    machinery    of   human 

welfiire,  nay,  of  the  world's  harmony.   Well, 

it    is    then    that  he   'takes  a  moral,   nay,    a 

religious  view  of  even  the  slightest  daily  acts, 

and  that  he  becomes  conscious  of  the  broader 

lines  of  conduct  which  it  is  rioht  for  him  to 

pursue. 

"  '  If  he  is  always  in  this  mood  —  and  it  is 

53 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

therefore  I  gave  up  the  vocation  of  a  clergy- 
man as  an  abnormal  occupation  in  life  —  it 
leads  to  moral  emasculation.  If  he  is  con- 
stantly resting  on  his  f)ars  and  looking  about 
at  the  direction  he  is  rowino-  in,  watchino- 
the  banks  at  the  side,  iido-ettino-  and  fussing; 
with  his  oar  or  the  interior  tittings  of  the 
boat  itself,  he  makes  no  headway.  On  the 
other  hand,  if  he  does  not  look  about, 
without  and  within,  at  all,  or  if  he  looks 
once  at  the  start,  and  then  row's  ahead  com- 
placently, doggedly,  and  obstinately  (a  line 
which,  under  the  self-gratifying  and  inflating 
term  of  "  principles,"  causes  so  much  dis- 
comfort and  misery),  he  will  often  run  into 
the  l)ank  and  into  other  lioats,  causing  dis- 
aster and  ruin  all  around.  Now,  the  onl}^ 
right  way  is  to  i-ow  steadily  and  vigorously 
o'l,  and  to  give  occasional,  quite  occasional, 
glances  (slight  side-glances  will  often  suffice) 
ahead,  at  the  sides,  and  within,  to  see  how  he 
is  going,  and  to  determine  the  proper  course. 

54 


RICHARD    LEATHERHEAD 

"'AVell,  I  have  been  lookino-  about  and 
within,  owino-  to  the  Leatherhead  incident, 
and  I  have  lieen  confirmed  in  what  I  felt 
but  vaguely  liefore,  in  nionienls  of  social 
circumspection  and  introspection.  The 
decaloo-uc  of  old  and  our  modern  laws, 
criminal  and  otherwise,  have  taken  in  hand 
the  o-rosser  offences  against  human  society  ; 
and  our  social  tradition  enforces  the  pre- 
ventive ostracism  of  the  law.  But  there  are 
other  offences,  which  a  highly-developed 
and  complicated  social  life  has  produced 
with  its  advance  and  refinement,  and  with 
which,  in  their  delicate  intricacy,  neither  the 
decalogue  nor  the  law  can  deal. 

" '  These  we  have  to  care  for  ourselves  ; 
and  a  well-organised  s6ciety  must  develop  its 
unwritten  code  to  counteract  such  offences. 
The  law  deals  with  the  murderer  and  thief, 
with  the  man  who  basely  steals  another 
man's  wife,  and  society  confirms  the  action 
of  the  law  by  the  exclusion  of  such  members 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

from  its  highest  circles.  We  even  ostracise 
the  man  who  cheats  at  cards.  But  we  do 
not  yet  punish  the  man  wlio,  in  raindly 
acquiring  great  wealth,  has  passed  through 
a  moment,  however  short,  in  which  he 
might  have  lost,  not  only  his  own  money, 
but  that  of  many  other  persons  who  ti-usted 
him,  or  —  the  man  who  wounds  to  the  quick 
the  dignity  and  self-respect  of  a  fellow-being, 
as  Leatherhead  wounded  my  mother. 

"  'Now,  not  only  do  I  consider  the  brutal 
manner  of  that  man's  offence  inconsistent 
with  anything  approaching  to  a  beautiful  soul, 
possessed  of  healthy  social  feeling,  so  that 
the  ugliness  and  deformity  are  repulsive  to 
me  and  make  me  shrink  from  ct)ntact,  but 
I  also  think  it  indicative  of  what  is  harmful 
to  society,  and  I  think  society  ought  to  be 
protected  against  it.  Therefore,  I  never 
wish  to  meet  Mr.  Leatherhead  again.' 

"The  Minister,  whom  I  saw  that  afternoon, 

and  who  repeated  to  me  the  conversation  he 

56 


RICHARD    LEATHERHEAD 


had  had  with  Gordon,  assured  me  that  he 
had  never  been  moved  so  dee})ly  hy  any 
sermon,  and  that  it  had  shown  him  a  new 
side  in  Gordon,  the  deeper  religious  side, 
which  his  practical  acumen,  his  social  bright- 
ness and  brilliancy,  had  never  led  him  to 
expect  l)efore. 

"  Soon  the  whole  of  Athenopolis  society, 
becoming  aware  of  the  absence  of  Gordon, 
though  they  still  Hocked  to  his  house,  talked 
of  nothing  else  but  the  rudeness  of  Leather- 
head. 

".The  eno-ineers,  resentino-  the  insult  to 
their  chief,  retired  in  a  body  from  the  society 
of  the  town  :  and,  beino-  naturally  ioined  by 
a  group  of  scientitic  and  other  residents, 
were  forming  a  circle  of  their  own,  which 
])romised  to  be  more  interesting  and  amus- 
ino-  than  the  leadino;  set. 

"  Moreover,  Gordon,  who  was  a  personal 
friend  of  the  Marshal  of  the  Court,  had 
beoored  him  to  ask  the  Prince  not  to  have 

o7 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

him  invited  to  the  dinner  oiven  to  the 
British  legation,  which  he  knew  was  soon 
to  folh)w,  and  which  he  would  have  to 
attend,  meeting  Leatherhead.  Accordingly, 
Gordon,  his  mother,  and  some  of  the 
engineers  were  asked  to  a  separate  dinner 
at  Court,  together  with  some  other  interest- 
ing people,  which  gave  still  further  cause 
for  comment. 

"  You  can  readily  perceive  how  impossible 
a  person  Leatherhead  became  in  Athenop- 
olis.  Even  if  he  had  not  soon  been  re- 
called and  transferred  to  another  post,  his 
life  would  have  been  unbearable  to  him. 

"  But  the  effects  of  this  one  incident  did 
not  lose  themselves  with  Leatherhead's  de- 
parture, neither  upon  his  career  nor  —  his 
character. 

''Give  a  dog  a  ])ad  name  I  Wherever  he 
went,  his  story  had  preceded  him.  No 
doubt    it    spread    about    from    Athenopolis. 

Huntley,  too,  who  travelled  a  good  deal  and 

58 


RICHARD    L  P:  A  T  H  E  R  H  E  A  D 

was  re])andu  in  England,  did  not  make  a 
secret  of  it,  and  must  have  communicated  it 
to  his  brother,  who  was  in  the  diplomatic 
service.  In  short,  wherever  Leatherhead 
went  he  made  a  bad  start ;  and  his  un- 
doubted shortcomings  became  ol^trusively 
apparent  to  all  those  whom  he  approached. 
The  absence  of  natural  amiability  in  his 
nature,  or  of  prominent  power  in  his  work, 
would  have  kept  him  as  an  ordinary  diplo- 
matic official  in  the  rank  and  file  of  the 
service.  But  he  was  heavily  handicapped, 
and,  what  is  more,  his  character,  and  in 
consequence  his  manners,  were  disastrously 
aft'ected  by  it  all. 

"You  see,  the  predominant  element  which 
had  made  it  possible  for  him  to  conmiitr  the 
'  rudeness  '  might  have  been  defined  as  cad- 
dishness;  the  siiob  element  was  not  yet  fully 
and  prominently  developed,  and  still  lay 
dormant  in  its  strong  potentiality.  It  now 
became  the  leadino-  feature  in  him,  when  the 

5'J 


TPIE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

element  ot"  com^ciousness  —  consciousness  of 
his  social  position,  advuntaofes,  and  short- 
comings in  their  rehition  to  and  in  compar- 
ison with  those  of  others  —  was  added  to 
the  coarser  feelings  of  the  cad  in  him. 

"  When  on  leave  in  England  he  had  l)e- 
come  enoaoed  to  a  >'ouno;  lady  for  whom  he 
had  a  passionate  affection.  It  therefore  be- 
came important  to  him  to  advance  in  his 
career.  The  agricultural  depression  had  then 
begun,  and  his  own  income  had  suifered  with 
that  of  his  brother's.  All  this  meant  that, 
whereas  he  had  been  able  formerly  to  main- 
tain a  comparatively  independent  attitude, 
he  now  felt  the  oreat  cravino;  to  o-et  on,  to 
make  his  career.  While  the  boy  and  the 
man  who,  from  childhood  up,  are  impressed 
with  the  fact  that  the  success  of  their  life 
depends  upon  their  own  exertions,  develop 
the  faculty  of  Nvorkino-  and  strivino-  as  a 
well-grounded  trait  of  their  character,  pro- 
ducing ennobling  energy  and  self-repression, 

60 


RICHARD    LEATHERHEAD 

he  felt  this  as  a  new  impulse  and  was  educa- 
tionally unprepared  for  it  —  he  was  also  a 
parvenu  in  the  world  of  striving.  His  natu- 
ral clumsiness  and  awkwardness  did  not  al- 
low this  eao-erness  to  take  more  refined  chan- 
nels  and  methods  :  and  he  thus  became  the 
pusher,  the  '  .struglifer '  who  was  manifestly 
and  obtrusively  on  the  alert  for  all  that 
might  advance  his  career.  Especiall}'  in  the 
social  world  he  could  not  suppress  this  eager- 
ness ;  and  this,  combined  with  the  previous 
more  or  less  latent  tendencies  in  him,  con- 
tributed to  make  his  manner  in  the  world 
simply  disgusting  and  repulsive. 

"Thus,  the  more  he  desired  advancement, 
the  more  he  wished  to  marry,  the  less  did  his 
actions  lead  to  success  :  and  it  happened  that 
on  two  or  three  occasions  he  was  passed 
over  when  his  juniors  received  promotion. 
At  the  same  time,  the  depression  in  the  rents 
of   his    brother's    estates   having  reached    a 

ruinous  stage,  which  had  cut  down  his  own 

61 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THIXGS 

income  still  further,  he  at  last  decided  to 
exchange,  and  to  transfer  himself  and  his 
wife  (for  he  could  then  marry)  to  the  con- 
sular service.  And  this  downward  step  in 
his  career  tended  to  develop  still  further  the 
snohjmr  m/iKj  which  you  have  so  readily  re- 
cognised after  meetino-  him  here. 

"But  I  venture  to  believe  that,  though  only 
such  a  man  could  have  acted  in  just  such  a 
manner  as  he  did  to  Mrs.  Gordon,  the  react- 
ing ett'ect  of  this  one  incident  tended  to  con- 
firm all  the  bad  elements  in  him. 

"  Now  you  see  what  a  moral  story  this  is  — 

"  '  So,  Willie,  let  me  and  you  be  wipers 

Of  scores  out  with  all  men  —  especially  pipers  ! ' 

"  And  now  it  is  time  for  me  to  go.  You 
have  been  kept  up  long  enough." 

Maxwell  rose  and  stretched  himself;  l)ut 
I  was  still  wrapt  in  thought,  and  could  not 
help  asking  him  a  further  question. 

"  I  know  your   story  is  ended,  and  there 

is  nothing  more  to  relate,"  I  said ;    "  but  I 

62 


RICHARD    LEATHERHEAD 

should  like  to  know  what  vou  think  about  a 
further  problem  which  suggests  itself  to  me. 
If  Gordon  had  realised  all  the  consequences 
in  the  life  of  Leatherhead  to  which  you 
referred  as  arising  out  of  his  Athenopolis 
ostracism,  what  do  you  think  he  would  have 
felt,   and  what   would  he  have   done  ?  " 

Maxwell  sat  down  ao-ain,  leaned  his  elbows 
on  the  table,  and  thought  for  a  minute  or 
two. 

"Well,  it  is  hard  to  tell.  Of  one  thing 
I  am  quite  certain :  that  he  would  have 
been  intensely  miserable.  I  know  he  would 
even  have  gone  out  of  his  way  to  hel})  him 
with  money  or  in  any  other  way,  including 
much  personal  sacrilice ;  but,  as  to  his 
action "'  —  and  here  he  hesitated,  with  a 
puzzled  expression  in  his  face.  And  then, 
suddenly : 

"  Yes,   I    do    know   what  he  would    have 

done.     He    would    have    done    exactly    the 

same    over  again  —  not  with  any  sense  of 

63 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

personal  vindit-tiveness  ;  as,  I  need  hardly 
tell  you,  there  was  nothiiiij  of  the  revengeful 
'doing    for'     Leatherhead     in     his     action. 
But  you  see,  in  the  first  })lace,  Gordon  was 
a    man    in  whom    the    general,  the    abstract 
duties    had    singular    and    direct    power    of 
moral  motive.      I  know  that  in  several  other 
aspects    of  his    life  he    repressed  the    loud 
claims  of  self-indulgence  purely  because  of 
some  general  abstract    idea  of  duty,   which 
would    hardly   have    affected    or  stimulated 
others  to  action  against  natural  desire. 

"  Moreover,  I  remember  his  telling  me 
once,  when  talking  about  his  work  and 
profession,  that  nothing  gave  him  more  pain 
and  caused  him  more  misery  than  havin<2: 
to  send  away  an  employee  ;  that  this  had 
been  the  chief  source  of  pain  in  the  work 
which  he  loved.  But  when  he  realised 
that  a  workman  or  a  superior  member  of 
the  staff  was  incompetent,  or  that  his  in- 
fluence was  baneful,   he    sent   him  away  at 

64 


RICHARD    LEATHERHEAD 

once.  'For,  you  see,'  he  said,  'I  have 
realised  that,  with  so  hiro-e  a  number  of 
men,  discipline,  good  tradition,  and  spirit 
(^ which  mean  so  reyy  nuich)  can  only  be 
maintained  1>v  visorous  weeding-out  of  bad 
ones.  With  a  bleeding  heart  I  have  had  to 
be  firm.' 

"  I  heard  from  one  of  his  men  that  he 
often  paid  considerable  sums  out  of  his  own 
pocket  to  help  one  he  had  dismissed  to  tide 
over  the  time  until  he  could  lind  other 
employment. 

"  Such  a  man,  I  I^elievc,  would  have  acted 
in  exactly  the  same  Avay  to  a  Leatherhead, 
however  nmch  pain  he  might  have  felt  at 
the  results  of  his  action." 


65 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 


CAMPBELL  was   late  in    going  to    the 
Elisabethcnbrunnen    Promenade    on    u 
fine  August  morning.     It  was  half-past  eight 
o'clock ;     throngs    of    people    were    already 
leavmg  the  promenade,  hastening  home  in 
pleasant  anticipation  of  their  coffee  and  rusks, 
for  which  their  hour  and  a  half  s  walk  had 
thoroughly    prepared    them.      Some    of  the 
ladies  were  carrying  large  bunches  of  beauti- 
ful roses  with  which  an  attentive  friend  had 
presented  them  ;   some  stopped  on  their  way 
up  at  the  little  tables  with  pleasant  girls  l)e- 
hind  them  and  bought  jars  of  golden  honey 
which  they  carried  in  their  hands.     Health- 
o-iving  Aurora  had  kissed  their  brows  with 
her  rosy  lips  in  reward  of  their  early  rising, 
and    had    dispelled  from    them  the  furrows 
which  the  cares  and  toils  or  dissipations  of 


66 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

a  London,  Paris,  or  Berlin  season  hiad  drawn 
in  them. 

Campbell  had  been  touched  by  the  pleasant 
"  good  mornino- "'  and  l)rioht  smile  of  one  of 
these  fair-faced  honey-girls,  and  had  told  her 
once  that  he  regretted  crcatly  that  he  did 
not  care  for  honey.  "Oh,  that  makes  no 
difference,"  she  had  said ;  and  he  got  his 
smile  and  greeting  whenever  he  passed. 

He  nodded  to  his  many  friends  as  he 
walked  hastily  to  the  Brunnen,  l)owed  more 
formally  to  the  Prince  of  Gallia,  who  shouted 
"lazy  straggler"  at  him,  and  reached  the 
wells  y,diere  he  asked  for  his  glass  of  "  liaJf- 
warm "  waters  from  one  of  the  girls  who 
move  al)oiit  ])usily  in  the  circular  enclosure 
of  the  fountain.  He  was  greeted  with  a 
cheery  shout  from  a  tall,  lanky,  boyish-look- 
ing man  of  al)()ut  thirty,  with  a  keen  face 
and  bright  eyes  in  which  shrewdness  and  good 
nature,  seriousness  of  purpose  and  childish 

frivolity,  were  struggling  for  the  upper  hand  ; 

67 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

while  all  were  overborne  l)y  the  predominant 
clamour  of  over-strung  and  uncontrollable 
nerves. 

"  Remember  you  are  dining  with  us  this 
evening,"  he  said,  as  he  shook  Campbell's 
hand. 

"  Where  and  when  is  it  ?  "  asked  Camp- 
bell. "  I  must  confess  T  had  almost  forgotten. 
Verl)al  invitations  and  our  confused  meetings 
bring  one  into  a  hopeless  state  of  nuiddle  as 
rei2:ards  eng-aoements  here." 

"  At  the  Kurhaus,  at  seven  forty-five.    Do 

be    punctual,  because  we    are  going  to  the 

dance  afterwards.    Oh,  course  you  are  coming 

to  the  dance,  aren't  you?     ^ly  wife  wants 

you  to  dance    with    her,   and  there  will  be 

some  pretty  girls.      I'm   sure  you  can  dance 

as  well  as  any  of  these  fools  here.     Fellows 

with  brains  can  do  anything  they  want  to 

do.     That's  my  conviction.    Am  I  not  right? 

You  see  "  — 

And  he  was  o;oin<i'    to  rush  off  into  one 

68 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

of  his  wild  theories,  which,  exaggerated  as 
they  were,  always  had  some  remarkable  and 
original  point.  They  pulled  one  up  sharp 
and  made  one  think  ;  at  first  \villi  a  spirit  of 
opposition,  and,  when  this  had  worn  oft",  with 
a  reconciled  agreement,  after  one  became 
accustomed  to  the  humourous  side  of  his  ten- 
dency to  exaggerate.  Campbell,  though  he 
had  a  keen  sense  of  humour,  had  inherited 
from  his  Scotch  ancestors  a  fund  of  serious- 
ness, which  often  made  him  feel  irritated  with 
the  slovenly  and  slipshod  thought  and  ex- 
pression of  his  American  friend,  whom  he 
liked  much,  and  for  whose  wife  he  had  a 
deep  regard  and  admiration  verging  upon 
aftection. 

"Don't  let's  talk  philosophy  early  in  the 
mornino-  on  nothino'  but  a  o^lass  of  Elisa- 
bethenbrunnen  in  an  empty  stomach,"  Camp- 
bell interrupted  him.  "I  want  to  know 
about  the  dance.    Is  it  one  of  the  rf^unionf^  .^" 

"Why,    no!      Don't  you  know?      It's  a 

(19 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 


subscription  dance  got  up  l)y  that  crowd  of 
the  Herberts  and  Lane  and  Hobhouse,  and 
that  lot  of  fellows.  Oh,  I  forgot  that  you 
have  only  just  conic.  They're  great  fun, 
those  dances.  They're  immense.  You  must 
come.  You  just  ask  one  of  those  fellows  — 
or  I'll  ask  for  you." 

"Don't  troul)le  about  that.  I  shall  see 
one  of  the  promoters  in  the  course  of  the 
day  and  get  a  ticket.  I  want  to  dance  with 
Mrs.  Hewson.  She's  the  best  dancer  I 
know.  I  ve  got  to  that  stage  of  the  mature 
dancing  man  when  an  inditterent  partner 
o-ives  as  much  pain  as  a  o-ood  one  gives 
pleasure." 

Hewson  had  not  been  listening  to  Camp- 
bell's last  remarks  and  was  evidently  puz- 
zling over  something  that  he  wanted  to  put 
em})hatically. 

"  But  there  is  something  that  makes  me  so 
mad,"  he  suddenly  burst  out,  "  that  it  spoils 
my   pleasure    in    the    dance.       You     know 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

women  are  all  mean  and  petty  and  that  kind 
of  thino-,  ATe  all  know  that,  and  there  is 
no  use  humbugging  about  it.  But  what  I 
hate  to  see  is  men  g-ivino;  wav  to  it.  I  hate 
to  see  men  act  like  women,  don't  you?" 

"  I  can't  exactly  agree  to  all  your  general 
statements.  Had  you  not  better  tell  me  the 
particular  case  you  haye  in  mind  ?  " 

"Well,  those  women  haye  made  a  dead 
set  ao-ainst  three  nice  o-lrls  who  are  here. 
They  want  to  keep  them  out,  and  they  are 
doing  it.  And  they  haye  got  the  men  to 
play  into  their  hands,  so  that  the  three  girls 
have  had  tickets  refused  them." 

"That  is  indeed  the  kind  of  thing  I  hate, 
either  in  man  or  woman, —  unless  there  be 
some  iustitication.  Is  there  anythins;  of  the 
kind  in  the  case  of  these  three  women  ? 
Are  they  fast,  or  yulgar,  or  pushing?" 

"  Xothing  of  the  kind,  my  dear  fellow. 
They    are    charmino-    and  well  l)red,    and  I 

should  say,  reserved,  —  so  that  I  can't  see 

71 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

liow  they  should  havo  put  themselves  in  a 
position  to  ])e  snul)l)ed  that  way.  They  are 
very  pretty  and  dress  very  well  —  no  doubt 
that  counts  strongly  against  them  with  the 
women.  But  the  real  reason  is  that  they  are 
Jewesses  ;  that  they  are  of  the  great  race  to 
which  our  Saviour  belonged,  and  to  which 
we  owe  the  Bil)le.  It  is  all  common  rot, 
and  makes  me  tired  !  " 

Campbell  stopped  walking  and  his  friend 
had  to  follow  suit.  He  had  become  quite 
serious  now,  and  there  was  an  expression  of 
contem})t  and  anger  in  his  face  as  he  said  : 

"  I  agree  with  you  heartily,  my  dear  Hew- 
son.  I  have  never  agreed  with  you  more 
completely.  That  is  indeed  hateful  as  re- 
gards the  women,  and  despicable  as  regards 
the  men.  I  know  such  things  are  done. 
But  we  have,  thank  heavens,  been  spared 
this  genus  of  vulgarity  in  England  —  though 
we  have  many  developments  of  the  species. 

I  have  come  to  Homburg  many  years  and  I 

72 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

have  never  seen  it  show  its  vile  head  here. 
That's  something  quite  new  ;  and  you  nuist 
pardon  me  if  I  suspect  that  it  is  not  an 
English  importation,  Ijut  has  l)een  intro- 
(Uiced  bj^  the  American  section  of  our  Eng- 
lish-speaking community." 

"  Of  course  you  are  right,"  Hewson  as- 
sented. "T  know  the  American  crowd  that 
introduced  it ;  they  are  my  friends  and  re- 
lations ;  liut  they  are  most  of  them  English- 
men who  gave  way  to  them.  That's  what 
beats  me.  I  know  all  about  the  women, 
and  don't  ])other  a])out  that.  They  have 
got  mean  ways  ;  but  as  "  — 

And    here     he    interrupted     himself    and 

turned  to  Cam})bell   with  a  deprecatory  and 

pleading  manner.     "  Now,  please  don't  mind 

the  early  hour  and  the  Elisabethenbrunnen 

:ind  talk   sense  to   me.      You   are  a  fellow 

that  thinks,   and   I  can't   talk    sense   to   all 

those  fools.     I  have  often  lieen  puzzling  over 

a  thing,  and  you  can  solve  it  for  me.      Why 

73 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

do  good  Christian  women  try  to  hurt  each 
other,  to  wound  in  the  most  sensitive  spot 
of  pride  ;  and  why  do  freeborn  American 
women  try  that  kind  of  '  society  '  game  on, 
more  than  any  others?  " 

Campbell  himself  had  been  walking  on, 
lookino-  before  him  on  the  o-round,  his  brow 
knit,  manifestly  thinking  keenly  on  some- 
thing that  must  have  stirred  deeper  thoughts 
and  associations  in  him.  He  raised  his 
head,  and  said  to  Hewson,  with  a  changed, 
deliberate  manner : 

"You  ask  me  two  questions,  Hewson, 
which  interest  me  much,  and  on  which  I 
have  thouoht  a  o-ood  deal.  One  is  of  a 
universal  nature,  the  other  of  a  special 
national  aspect,  on  which,  surely,  you  are 
a  better  authority  than  I  am." 

"  No,  I'm  not.  I've  not  lived  in  America 
since  I  was  a  boy  who  never  thought.  You 
are  a  man  of  experience  and  observation,  and 
you  have  travelled  in  America  as  a  sympa- 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

thetic  observer,  which  enables  you  to  judge 
of  certain  matters  better  than  Americans 
themselves  can.  Please  tell  me  what  you 
think." 

"AYell,"  said  Campbell  deliberately,  "the 
first  general  question  may  help  to  answer 
the  second.  As  to  why  people  do  these 
cruel  things,  there  are  several  reasons  —  or 
rather  causes  ;  for  they  are  rarely  conscious 
of  them,  unless  they  are  really  bad  people. 
In  the  first  place,  we  all  have  in  us  the  sur- 
vivals of  the  instincts  of  prehistoric  man, 
of  the  man-animal.  And,  in  spite  of  the 
instinct  of  love  and  friendly  intercourse, — 
the  gregarious  social  instinct, —  we  have,  as 
carnivorous,  hunting  animals,  the  remains  of 
cruelty  which  you  will  find  in  all  animals, 
the  delight  in  hurting,  in  giving  pain,  which 
in  man  is  perhaps  increased  and  refined  by 
pleasure  in  the  consciousness  of  power.  The 
child  that  teases  an  animal  or  pinches  another 

child  and  then  coos  with  delight   is  an   in- 

75 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

stance  of  this.  Tho  weaker  and  more  timid 
the  animal,  the  more  cruel  is  it.  AVith  hu- 
man heinos  it  certainly  is  so  ;  perhaps  ])e- 
cause  the  weaker  ones  have  a  stronger  crav- 
ino-  for  the  feelino-  of  power  which  the}" 
rarely  enjoj^  and  also,  as  they  are  unaccus- 
tomed to  such  strong  emotional  food,  they 
have  less  moderation.  That  is  one  reason 
why  women  are  often  more  cruel  than  men  ; 
another  being  that  they  are  the  more  emo- 
tional of  the  two,  and  therefore  have  their 
passions  less  under  the  control  of  reason." 
"  Oh,  that's  immense  !  You  just  say  the 
kind  of  things  I've  been  thinking  about  and 
can't  express.  I  wish  I  could  express  things 
as  you  can.  I  feel  them  all,  but  I  can't  put 
them  into  words.  My  education  was  all 
muffed.  That's  where  you've  got  the  pull 
over  me."  He  was  excited,  with  his  clear 
eyes  glaring  at  Campbell,  and  he  suddenly 
took  his  arm  and  dragged  him  forward.  "  Go 
on,  go  on,"  he  said. 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

"AYell,  the  hunting  of.  the  prehistoric 
man,  the  chief  life-interest  upon  which  he 
expended  his  energy,  is  for  the  modern 
averag^e  lad\'  '  society  '  so-called.  It  is  here 
that  she  satisfies  her  natural  craving  for 
action  and  self-realisation.  I  know  this  is  a 
barbarous  word  :  but  this  outer  realisation 
of  our  self,  of  our  individuality,  is,  in  its 
various  forms,  one  of  the  leading  impulses 
to  action  and  exertion.  This  leads  to  aml)i- 
tion.  And  the  ambition  of  women  who  have 
no  })rofession  or  predominant  intellectual  or 
moral  interest  in  life,  or  who  do  not  fultil 
that  high  and  noble  function  of  being  model 
wives,  mothers  of  children  whom  they  edu- 
cate, and  mistresses  of  a  household  over 
which  they  preside, —  the  ambition  of  such 
women  lies  within  '  society  '  in  the  restricted 
sense  of  that  term.  It  is  here  they  wish  to 
shine,  to  rise  to  a  high  position. 

"  Now,  this  "■  society  '  has  its  origin  in  pos- 
itive causes  which  are  good,   or  it    springs 

77 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

from  negative  impulses  which  are  ])ad.  The 
positive  basis  I  should  call  natural  social 
selection  or  differentiation  ;  the  negative  ele- 
ment is  exclusion  or  exclusiveness.  The 
positive,  which  leads  to  selection,  is  grounded 
on  a  refined  taste,  and  calls  for  the  exertion 
of  strength  and  independence  of  character 
and  truthful  consistency  of  conduct.  It  thus 
tends  to  ennoble  the  individual  and  to  elevate 
society  —  in  the  wdder  sense ;  it  is  based 
upon  love  and  liberty.  The  negative  side, 
Avhich  makes  for  exclusion  and  exclusive- 
ness, leads  to  the  consciousness  of  one's  own 
security  and  social  advantages,  to  pride  and 
exultation,  to  envy  or  the  malignant  realiza- 
tion of  the  disadvantages  of  others,  —  it  is 
based  upon  hate  and  servility.  The  one 
looks  within  for  its  justification  ;  the  other 
looks  without." 

Campbell  paused  a  moment,  but  Hewson 
liad  growm  quite  excited.  With  the  keen 
appreciation    he    had   for    thought,    and    his 

78 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

demonstrative,  nervous  nature,  he  almost 
lio})}jed  about  as  he  said  eagerly  :  "  Go  on, 
go  on,  I  am  following  you.  Don't  lose  it. 
I  see  what  you  are  driving  at.  Oh,  it  is 
immense  !  " 

"  Well,  then,"  Campbell  continued,  "birds 
of  a  feather  flock  together.  People  of 
similar  tastes,  similar  interests  and  occupa- 
tions, and  in  similar  conditions  of  life,  will 
find  pleasure  and  social  peace  and  security 
in  each  other's  company,  and  will  form  a 
circle  or  set.  And  it  is  right  that  they 
should  do  it.  The  more  highly  developed 
society  grows,  the  better  it  becomes,  the 
more  will  it  thus  diflerentiate  into  sets. 
This  is  wholly  right.  It  will  thus  have, 
viewed  from  without,  an  '  exclusive  '  aspect. 
And  it  is  right  that  it  should  thus  act  exclu- 
sively—  so  long  as  the  forces  which  give  it 
that  consistent,  tirm,  inner  solidarity  are 
truly  the  positive  reasons  which   led  to  its 

inner  organisation,  which  made  it  a  set. 

79 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

"I  even  hold  that  it  is  the  duty  of  every 
man  to  carry  through  hi.s  selection  on  social 
grounds  with  firmness  and  untiinching  purity 
of  social  motive — provided  always  he  main- 
tains the  pro})ortion  of  life  in  its  wholeness, 
and  does  not  consider  the  '  social '  objects, 
to  the  exclusion  or  suppression  of  other 
duties  more  urgent  and  persistent  in  their 
claims  to  consideration.  But  he  is  not  to 
admit  people  into  the  inner  circle  of  his 
friends  excepting  on  })urel>'  social  grounds. 
Even  moral  and  intellectual  claims,  as  well 
as  those  of  self-interest,  in  so  far  as  they 
clash  with  social  fitness,  are  not  to  be  re- 
garded. Society  as  a  whole,  as  a  perfect 
expression  of  all  phases  of  life,  would  be 
the  Ijetter  and  more  highly  developed  for 
this,  and  social  groups  would  be  found  in 
almost  artistic  purity  and  harmony,  unsullied 
by  sordid  interest,  without  the  dissonance 
of  vulgar    ostentation    or    even    moral    and 

charitable  forces  working  out  of  place.     We 

80 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

have  no  riofht  to  bore  and  disturb  our  friends, 
who  join  together  for  pure  social  converse, 
with  unfit  people  chosen  to  advance  our  im- 
mediate interests,  or  add  to  the  market-place 
reputation  or  notoriety  of  our  salons,  or  to 
rid  ourselves  of  the  l)urden  of  ties  and 
duties  in  other  spheres.  Nor,  to  take  a 
definite  instance,  ought  we,  in  providing  a 
letter  of  introduction,  onlv  to  consider  the 
comfort  and  convenience  of  the  person  pre- 
sented, to  the  exclusion  of  the  thought 
whether  the  I'ecipient  of  the  letter  will  be 
equally  pleased  by  the  new  acquaintance  and 
obligation  we  press  upon  him.  If  we  act 
thus  we  are  sinning  against  the  impersonal 
ideal  of  a  well-organised  society,  as  well  as 
wronffino^  our  friends,  who,  in  the  tacit 
understanding  of  (his  '  social  contract,'  were 
not  called  upon  to  make  a  sacrifice,  but 
to  receive,  as  well  as  contribute  to,  the 
pleasures  of  freest  and  lightest  social  inter- 
course.    But  I  nnist  not  overshoot  the  mark. 

81 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

For,  as  I  said  before,  the  'social'  claims,  as 
well  as  the  whole  'social'  attitude  of  mind, 
may  have  to  recede  and  to  make  way  for 
much  more  weighty  and  imperious  calls  of 
duty  in  other  spheres  of  life  ;  and  the  har- 
mony and  proportion  of  all  these  spheres 
among  each  other  will,  before  all,  have  to 
be  maintained  and  regulated.  There  is  not 
so  much  danger  of  people  making  grave 
errors  in  this  direction. 

"  But  as  soon  as  the  exclusiveness  itself 
becomes  an  essential  feature  of  a  set's  con- 
sistency, as  soon  as  it  leads  to  an  aggres- 
sively or  manifestly  negative  attitude  towards 
those  not  of  the  set,  and  draws  its  moral  (or 
immoral)  sustenance  from  this  consciousness, 
—  it  produces  snobbishness  and  develops 
the  cruelty  and  vulgarity  of  which  you  gave 
me  an  instance  this  morning." 

"  Bully  !  "  shouted  Hewson.  "  How  do 
you  define  snobbishness?" 

"Well,    that    will  lead   us  too  far.      We 

82 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

Enoflishmen  know  somethino;  about  it.  But 
I  Avill  give  you  a  mot  of  one  of  my  friends, 
which,  in  the  light  of  what  I  have  been 
saying,  you  will  understand.  He  said,  in 
defining  snob  and  prig  as  correlative  terms, 
'  A  snob  is  one  who  is  manifestly  conscious 
of  his  social  advantao;es  or  disadvantao-es  ;  a 
prig  is  the  same  in  the  intellectual  and  moral 
sphere.'  But  now  let  us  'return  to  our 
muttons  '  —  I  hate  not  (inishino;  a  thino- ;  and 
then  T  want  to  o;et  to  niv  breakfast. 

"  Now,  '  societies  '  go  in  large  groups,  and 
therefore  cannot  trouble  about  individuals 
and  individual  traits.  They  thus  manifest 
their  exclusiveness  by  larger  categories. 
And  in  their  struggle  to  find  some  people 
upon  whose  shoulders  they  can  rise  to  social 
prominence,  at  whose  cost  they  can  manifest 
this 'exclusiveness,' they  point  to  recognis- 
able groups  or  classes  of  people.  The  victims 
must  therefore  be  readilv  distinguishable. 
Sometimes  it  will  be  a  profession  or  occupa- 

83 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

tion  that  is  thus  stig-matised.  Formerly  it 
was  chiefly  a  question  of  birth."  This  feudal 
aspect  is  played  out  in  England,  in  spite  of 
our  having  a  house  of  peers.  The  most 
convenient  victims  will  be  those  smaller 
groups  within  the  nation  who  are  distinguish- 
able by  some  quasi-naiionsil  characteristic  ; 
and  the  foreiofn  settlements  or  their  descend- 
ants,  as  well  as  the  provincials  settling  in 
the  capital,  are  most  convenient.  Scotch, 
Irish,  and  German  communities  are  easily 
fixed  upon  ;  and  this  will  inevitably  happen 
if  their  success  give  rise  to  env3^  Now 
the  Jews  are  the  readiest  victims  ;  and  so  it 
comes  about.  And  now  I'm  going  to  my 
breakfast." 

They  had  reached  the  upper  end  of  the 
promenade,  where  there  are  booths  of  jewel- 
lers and  booksellers. 

"  No  ;  now,  just  come  down  once  more. 

It  is  very  bad  to  eat  your  breakfast  so  soon 

after  the  waters.     Come  up  and  down  once 

84 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 


more  and  I'll  walk  home  with  yon,"  Hewson 
urged,  and  put  his  arm  into  Campliell's,  pull- 
ino-  him  alono-.  "  You  have  answered  the 
first  question  ;  how  about  the  second?  Why 
should  our  American  women  be  worse  in 
this  respect  than  your  English  ?  " 

"  Well,  my  dear  sir,  you  must  forgive  me 
if  I  speak  frankly  and  freely.  I  know  you 
are  above  that  petty  vanity  which  is  unable 
to  bear  even  sympathetic  and  well-founded 
criticism  of  national  peculiarities." 

"  Fire  away  I  Of  course  I  don't  mind  it 
from  you ;  because  you  also  know  and  ac- 
knowledge our  good  points.  It's  the  fools 
who  know  nothino-  and  then  criticise  that 
make  me  mad,*'  Hewson  assured  him. 

"Well,  you  Americans  have  advanced 
with  astounding  rapidity  in  all  s[)heres  of 
civilisation,  and  you  have  outstripped  the 
Old  World  in  many  important  ones,  so  that, 
))y  reaction,  you  are  influencing  Europe, 
very  often  for  good.      But  '  socially  '  you  are 


85 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

still  in  an  embryonic  stage.  With  the  ex- 
ception of  Boston,  where  the  past  few  gen- 
erations created  a  nucleus  of  such  genuine 
social  groups,  organically  developed  out  of 
similarity  of  tastes,  education,  and  outer  con- 
ditions of  life  conducive  to  pleasant  inter- 
course, you  have  no  centre.  Even  in  Bos- 
ton there  is  active  now  a  process  of  disin- 
tegration, owing  to  the  sweep  of  business 
enterprise  and  the  consequent  shifting  of 
wealth,  together  with  a  general  restlessness 
of  spirit.  In  your  other  great  centres  and  in 
your  smaller  communities  fixed  and  mature 
social  groups  have  not  had  time  to  solidify, 
and  no  genuine  grounds  of  '  social  selection  ' 

—  I  mean  those  that  are  not    adventitious 

—  have  shown  themselves  and  been  recog- 
nised  or  discovered.  The  result  is  that  you 
are  constantly  putting  up  new  ones  that  may 
be  swept  away  next  day.  Wealth  is  one 
lasting  element.  But  you,  especially  the 
best  among  you,    all   deny  that  this  is   the 

86 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

case.  You  have  many  of  you  borrowed 
from  feudalism  —  the  revolt  against  the  spirit 
of  which  was  the  very  soul  of  your  origin  as 
a  people  —  a  mock  and  phantom  reflexion  of 
its  social  criterion  ;  namely,  birth.  We  have 
practically  given  this  up  in  England,  and 
you  do  not  really  believe  in  it.  But  I  have 
been  hugely  amused,  while  residing  both  in 
your  capitals  and  in  out-of-the-way  pro- 
vincial towns,  to  be  treated  to  a  cross-fire  of 
my  hosts  at  dinner  on  the  peculiarities  of 
their  grandfathers  and  grand-uncles,  Joe 
Evans,  of  Evanstown,  and  Governor  Smith, 
of  New  London,  as  if  they  were  great  histori- 
cal figures.  Now,  I  can  understand  a  certain 
enthusiasm  and  poetic  pleasure  felt  by  a  man 
who,  in  a  great  English  country  house,  full 
of  architectural  and  historical  interest,  shows 
you  about  the  halls  and  galleries  and  points 
to  the  Holbeins,  Van  Dykes,  Gainsboroughs, 
and  Reynolds  portraits  of  his  ancestors,  who 

are    mentioned,   not  only  in  the  Domesday 

87 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 


Book,  l)ut  also  in  Shakespeare.  But  I  can 
only  sympathise  Avith  this  in  so  far  as  it  gives 
him  a  kind  of  poetic  pleasure.  For  the  rest 
it  will  depend  upon  him  whether  he  is  a  true 
gentleman,  a  man  of  refinement  and  ;i  good 
fellow,  or  a  cad,  a  bounder,  or  a  stal)le  boy. 
But,  you  see,  when  the  humour  no  lonser 
struck  me,  I  felt  it  as  a  grotesque  imperti- 
nence on  the  part  of  some  of  your  country- 
people  to  entertain  me  with  allusions  to  such 
uninteresting  and  undistinguished  people." 

"Well,"  rejoined  Hewson,  "those  people 
are  ignorant  and  do  not  know  the  world  — 
they  are  provincial,  my  dear  fellow.  You 
have  got  enough  provincials  in  the  country 
in  England,  have  you  not?  Exactly.  But 
it  really  seems  more  ridiculous  in  America, 
and  there  the  people  who  do  that  kind  of 
thing  are  not  the  '  provincials,'  but  often 
socially  the  most  prominent.  Now,  you 
know  my  own  family.  We  are  proud  of 
being    the     pure-blooded     Knickerbockers. 


88 


A    HO^IBURG    STORY 

AYell,  our  wealth  comes  from  the  fact  that 
one  of  our  Dutch  ancestors  —  a  regular  old 
ruffian  he  probably  was  —  had  some  vegeta- 
ble o;ardenon  Manhattan  Island,  which  after- 
wards  ])ecame  the  centre  of  the  city  of  Xew 
York,      And  the    old  fellow  grew  and  sold 
his  own  }wtatoes  and  cabbages.    My  mother's 
family,  one  of  the  richest  and  most  promi- 
nent, had.  as  their  first  American  ancestor,  a 
man  who  —  I  only  heard  this  the   other  day 
—  worked  for  a  dollar  a  day  in  the  humble 
employ  of  an  eminent  Jewish  merchant  in 
New  York  at  the  end  of  the  last  century." 
"There,   you've    come    nearer    our    main 
point,"  Campbell  said  more  eagerly.     "  This 
feelino-  aoainst  the  Jews  is  orenerallv  based 
upon  ignorance  of  histor}'  and  the  history  of 
the  non-bil)lical  Jews.     They  have  for  many 
centuries  had  aniono;  them  men  and   families 
of  wealth,  distinction,  education,  and  refine- 
ment, when   the    ancestors  of  many  Saxons 
and    Xormans,  and    especially   of   Knicker- 

89 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

bockers  and  Puritans,  were  following  humble 
(though  honourable)  pursuits  in  life  which 
debarred  them  from  the  advantages  of  cult- 
ure. But  the  feeling  that  occasionally  crops 
up  against  them  is  intensified  by  the  intro- 
duction of  religious  prejudice  and  intoler- 
ance, especially  in  America." 

"  Do  you  think  so  ? "  Hewson  asked 
doubtingly.  "  I  don't  think  it  has  anything 
to  do  w^ith  religion  in  the  case  of  this 
woman-meannes  s . " 

"Yes,  it  has,  to  a  slight  degree,"  Camp- 
bell continued,  "  because  your  social  life  is 
curiously  mixed  up  with  religion.  In  your 
towns,  and  especially  in  the  country,  your' 
society,  not  having  the  legitimate  and  solid 
basis  to  which  I  referred,  is  often  entirely 
grouped  round  the  Church.  You  have  no 
Established  Church  as  we  have  in  Eno-jand  : 
and  therefore  religion  (which  is  taken  for 
granted  with  us)  is  there  made  a  matter 
of  assertion  ;  it  becomes  obtrusive.     I  was 

90 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

often  astonished,  while  travelling  in  America, 
at  being  asked  by  a  young  lady,  '  What 
church  do  you  l)elong  to  ? '  as  we  ask  a 
man,  'What's  your  club?''' 

"  Oh,  that's  so,  that's  true,"  said  Hewson, 
laughing,  and  evidently  enjoying  the  remin- 
iscence. 

"  Well,    the    churches    thus    become    the 

social  centres  for  the  communities,  and  they 

sever  the  inhabitants,  spreading  their  worldly 

ramification  far  beyond  social  life,  even  into 

business.     It   is  one  of   the  advantages    of 

our    Established    Church    that    it   has  freed 

us  from  a    curse    which    makes  the  Church 

worldly,    while    it    makes    society  insincere 

and    fortuitous.     It  works    clumsily  and  is 

deo-radino-  in  any  case.     That  has  had  some- 

thing  to  do  with  a  stupid  wave  of  snobl)ish- 

ness    which    has    occasionally    washed  your 

free  and  enlightened  shores.     At  all  events, 

I  am  determined  to  put  my  foot  down  about 

it,  and  not  to  allow  it  to  dilute  and  pollute 

91 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

the  pleasant  flow  of  our  Anglo-American 
life  as  it  has  run  on  for  some  years  here. 
And  now  I  rusli  u[)  to  my  breakfast.  Good- 
by." 

"  Good-bv  —  thank  you  I  You  are  a 
good  fellow  —  one  of  the  rioht  sort.  I 
wish  "  —  Campbell  did  not  hear  what  else 
his  warm-hearted  American  friend  shouted 
after  him,  as  he  entered  his  apartments  for 
a  well-earned  breakfast. 


n 


THE  agitation  in  which  Hewson's  unim- 
portant remark  had  put  Campliell  did 
not  subside  while  he  was  having  his  break- 
fast, nor  for  some  time  thereafter.  There 
was  nothini>-  in  this  world  he  loathed  more 
than  meanness  and  pettiness ;  and  social 
snobbishness  of  this  kind  tilled  him  with 
anger  and  indignation  out  of  all  proportion 

to  the  triviality  of  the  act.     Large  natures 

92 


A    HO M BURG    STORY 

are  often  stirred  to  irritation  and  anger  by 
smallness,  because  of  its  contradiction  to 
their  essential  character.  A  lion  })reparing 
for  a  fatal  contest  with  another  lion  will  lash 
his  tail  and  roar  with  the  exultant  passion  of 
the  fray ;  but  he  will  howl  with  the  rage  of 
impotence  at  the  stings  of  wasps  and  carrion- 
flies. 

Moreover,  as  a  politician,  interested  in 
foreiofn  aifairs,  he  had  studied  and  followed 
the  Anti-Semitic  movements,  these  abortions 
of  internal  Chauvinism,  of  Anti-Capitalist 
parties  too  cowardly  to  show  their  true  face, 
and  of  religious  fanaticism  squirting  its 
attenuated  venom  at  the  weakest  part  of  the 
national  organism,  —  a  fight  which  is  not  fair, 
open,  and  evenly  matched.  He  felt  thank- 
fully how  impossible  it  was  for  such  a  move- 
ment to  gain  a  permanent  foot-hold  in  Eng- 
land, because  of  the  spirit  of  fsiir  play,  deeply 
imbedded  in  the  heart  of  the  English  people, 

the  direct  inheritance  of  chivalry,  which  is 

93 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 


constantly  nurtured  in  all  layer.s  of  British 
society  by  the  manly  tone  due  to  athletics 
and  sport.  And  the  insinuation  of  this 
moral,  cowardly  disease,  which  turns  its 
malignity  against  the  weakest  group  of  a 
community,  into  even  a  casual  stray  portion 
of  a  temporary  English  colony  like  that  of 
Homburg,  called  forth  his  pugnacious  spirit 
of  opposition.  For,  in  studying  the  whole 
of  this  curious  movement  in  modern  times, 
he  had  traced  its  origin  and  its  main  source 
to  Germany,  whence  it  had  been  imported  into 
America,  Austria,  and  even  into  France ; 
and  he  knew  how  readily  such  diseases  are 
transmitted  and  how  contagious  they  might 
be  in  their  action  —  even  upon  socially  healthy 
bodies  such  as  the  people  of  England.  For 
there  the  general  seeds  of  sinbbishness  were 
constantly  sending  forth  shoots  of  wild  growth 
in  other  spheres ;  while  distress  and  keen 
industrial  competition  were  preparing  whole 
classes  of    Englishmen  for  the  rivalry  and 


Oi 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

envy  which  lend  themselves  to  general  in- 
tolerance and  social  persecution. 

Finallv,  he  remembered  the  storv  which 
^Maxwell  had  told  him  of  the  eno-ineer  Gor- 
don  and  Gordon's  theory  of  social  responsi- 
bility ;  and  his  perturbation  gave  way  to 
decision  when  he  had  determined  to  fisfht 
these  evil  little  impish  powers,  with  pretty, 
soft,  smiling  faces  and  Paris  dresses,  in 
an  open  and  manly  way.  At  all  events, 
he  felt  that  he  would  lose  in  his  own  self- 
respect  if  he  tacitly  acquiesced  or  took 
part  in  what  was  so  repulsive  to  his  whole 
nature. 

With  this  determination,  after  writing  a 
few  letters,  he  sallied  forth  on  a  morning's 
walk  up  the  Hardwald,  and  at  half-past 
twelve  turned  his  steps  towards  Parker's 
Hotel,  where  he  had  been  invited  to  a  lunch- 
eon party  by  Lady  Xorthmeath,  a  kind- 
hearted  friend  of  his,  best  of  hostesses, 
who    had    the    art  of  collecting-    interestins: 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

people  and  always  bringing  the  right  ones 
together. 

Campbell  had  avoided  lunching  at  Park- 
er's, though  the  cooking  was  excellent,  be- 
cause, being  a  personal  friend  of  the  Prince 
of  Gallia,  who  resided  there,  and  generally 
lunched  on  the  terrace,  he  never  wished  to 
put  himself  in  the  way  of  His  Royal  High- 
ness, and  because  he  particularly  disliked 
the  idea  of  seeing  people  scramble  for  tables 
in  the  same  place  where  the  royal  visitor 
had  his   luncheon. 

He  found  the  table  of  his  hostess  almost 

adjoining  that  of  the  Prince,  and  most  of  her 

guests  had   already  assembled.      They  were 

all  English,  with  the  exception  of  one  very 

pretty    and    refined    American    lady    and    a 

Swedish  diplomat  and  his  wife.      Her  party 

also  included  a  younger  member  of  the  royal 

family.      The  Prince,  at  the  adjoining  table, 

nodded  in  a  friendly  manner  to  Campbell ; 

while  his   own   party  were  effusive  in  their 

96 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

o^reetinffs.  He  was  evidently  a  favourite 
with  all.  Lane,  one  of  the  promoters  of 
the  dance,   was  also  of  the  party. 

The  conversation  flowed  ag^reeablv  in  small 
groups,  but  occasionally  it  became  general, 
when,  by  a  curious  wave  of  intelligent  in- 
stinct,  everybody  stopped  to  listen  to  what 
was  well  put  and  worth  hearing. 

Campbell  was  waiting  for  the  mention  of 
the  dance  ;  but  the  subject  was  not  broached, 
so  felt  that  he  must  lead  up  to  it. 

"I  suppose,"  he  asked  his  hostess,  "you 
have  been  very  gav  these  last  few  weeks?  " 

"Oh,  very  gay  I "  she  replied.  "It  has 
been  one  of  the  pleasantest  seasons  I  have 
had  here.  There  are  a  great  many  nice 
people  and  very  few  olijectionable  ones  ;  no 
gossip,  no  (ripofar/efi,  and  a  universal  tone 
of  good  fellowship  and   good  nature." 

"lam  glad  to  hear  that.  I  hope  it  has 
not  all  been  exhausted,  now  that  I've 
come." 

97 


THE    SUEFACE    OF    THINGS 

"  Oh,  dear,  no  ! "  said  Lady  Northmeath  ; 
"  on  the  contrary,  it  seems  growing.  And 
you  bring  a  new  fund  of  pleasantness  with 
you  in  your  own  person.  Everybody  was 
asking  why  you  were  not  here,  and  fearing 
you  might  miss  this  season.  But  I  knew 
you  were  going  to  play  in  the  lawn-tennis 
tournament.  Tt  will  be  very  good  this  year  : 
the  English  and  the  American  champions 
are    coming." 

"I'm  not  going  to  compete  seriously.  My 
day  has  gone  by.  And  then  the  golf  they 
have  here  now  will  draw  me  away  from  the 
tennis.  I  don't  think  that  a  man  is  much 
good  at  very  active  games  after  he  has 
reached  thirty." 

The  hostess  demurred    to   this  statement 

and  appealed  to  other  members  of  the  party, 

and  the  conversation  Ijecame  general  on  the 

question    whether   a    man    could    retain  his 

agility    at  games  after  thirty.      Grace,  the 

cricketer,    and    the   Cumberland    wrestlers, 

98 


A    HO M BURG    STORY 

were  cited  as  ,showin»'  that  middle  aae  was 
not  fatal  to  excellence  in  games.  It  was 
maintained  by  some  that  it  was  merely 
because  men,  as  a  rule,  became  engrossed 
in  other  occupations  and  duties  which  de- 
barred them  from  the  needed  amount  of 
practice  that  there  were  fewer  prominent 
athletes  of  maturer  age. 

The  discussion  was  an  interesting  one, 
but  Campbell  felt  that  the  luncheon  was 
drawing  to  a  close,  and  he  had  not  succeeded 
in  bringing  the  dance  on  to  the  faj)fs.  He 
began  nervously  to  fear  that  the  table-cloth 
would  be  removed,  and  his  topic  would  be 
"  laid  on  the  table." 

He   tried   a  more  direct  tack,  and  asked, 

not  about  the   day   amusements,   but  aliout 

the  evenings.     By  a  curious  perversity  only 

the  past  evenings  were  mentioned,   and  he 

could  not  direct  the  talk   into   the  desired 

channels. 

The    waiters    were    already    asking    each 

99 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

ffuest  whether  he  would  take  coffee  and 
liqueurs,  which  most  refused,  as  they  were 
taking  the  waters,  when  Lane  suddenly  said  : 

"  Of  course  you'll  come  to  our  subscription 
dance  at  the  Kursaal  this  evening,  Camp- 
bell ;  I've  got  a  ticket  for  you." 

It  was  Campbell's  only  chance.  But  at 
first  his  expectancy  and  the  disappointment 
at  not  bringing  the  topic  up  sooner  confused 
his  whole  clear  and  telling  plan  of  mention- 
ing the  subject  in  an  impressively  cool  and 
delicate  manner.  So  he  blushed  slisfhtlv 
and  hesitated  as  he  said  : 

"  I  really  am  afraid  I  cannot  go.  I've  de- 
termined " —     Here  he  hesitated  again. 

"All  right,  old  fellow,"  said  Lane;  ''we 
won't  press  you  to  tell  us  what  engagement 
is  preventing  you  ;  we  won't  ask  her  name." 

This  made  Campbell  feel  like  a  fool  and 
quite  angry  at  the  turn  Lane's  talk  had 
taken.     But,  above  all,  he   was  angry  with 

himself  for  being  so  little  master  of  himself 

100 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 


and    of    the    diplomatic    art    of    arranging 
statements  in  telling  sequence. 

But  his  annoyance  was  really  most  ser- 
viceable to  his  cause,  as  the  chaff  which  was 
beo-inninof  to  ])e  directed  at  him,  and  his 
irritation  which  he  could  not  hide,  were 
arresting  the  attention  of  the  jiarty.  And 
as  he  felt  unable  to  divert  the  current  of 
light  banter,  he  at  last  burst  forth  in  an 
altered  tone,  while  the  whole  party  were 
listening : 

"Look  here,  Lane,  be  serious.  I  mean 
what  I  say  when  I  absolutely  refuse  to  have 
anything  to  do  with  your  dance,  and  I  don't 
care  who  knows  my  reasons.  You  may 
think  me  a  prig;  but  T  have  what  at  the 
University  we  called  'conscientious  scruples,' 
and  I  have  nothino;  to  say  to  an  entertain- 
ment  threatening  to  mar  the  pleasant  spirit 
of  our  life  here,  which  you  say  has  prevailed 
this  year  also.     I  was  told  this  morning  that 

there  was  a  dead  set  made  against  three  nice 

101 


THE    SUEFACE    OF    THINGS 

ladies,  and  that  tickets  were  refused  them 
for  this  dance, — the  reason  being  simply 
that  they  were  Jewesses.  Now,  T  have  no 
right  to  dictate  to  anybody  whom  he  is  to 
ask  or  not ;  nor  do  I  think  that  my  presence 
or  absence  will  make  any  difference  to  any- 
body ;  but  if  this  is  true  I  shall  certainly 
have  nothino-  to  do  with  the  dance  and  shan't 


go 


"I  really  know  nothing  about  this,  Camp- 
bell ;  it  is  (juite  new  to  me,"  Lane  said 
seriously.  "  There  are  several  of  us  stewards, 
some  of  whom  T  don't  know  :  and  the  tickets 
are  given  in  a  casual  manner.  But  T  shall 
inquire  into  this.  I  also  hate  that  kind  of 
snobbery." 

As  the  party  broke  up  and  Campbell  left 
them,  he  felt  some  compunction.  For  a 
serious,  if  not  a  painful,  tone  prevailed  and 
had  dissipated  the  high  spirits  with  which 
they  sat  down  to  luncheon.  Still,  he  felt  it 
was  worth  the  sacrifice. 

102 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

III 

IT  was  a  very  jovial  party  dining  on  the 
terrace  of  the  Kursaal  that  evening. 
There  were  the  Hewsons,  and  four  other 
Americans,  namely,  the  military  attache  of 
the  Paris  Embassy  with  his  wife  and  daugh- 
ter, and  a  pretty  widow,  who,  like  all  pretty 
American  widows,  was  supposed  to  have 
millions,  but  was  a  well-bred  and  cheery 
person  with  frank  and  simple  manners.  Be- 
sides these  and  Campbell,  there  was  Lord 
Hampton,  a  school  and  college  friend  of 
Campbell's,  and  Easton  the  traveller,  an  ad- 
mirable raconteur,  most  imperturbable  in  his 
good  humour  and  high  spirits,  the  soul  of 
every  jolly  party. 

The  pleasant  lightness  of  the  conversation 
at  their  table  was,  as  it  were,  set  in  the  uni- 
versal good  humour  which  seemed  to  reign 
at  all  the  tables  with  similar  dinner-parties 
about    them,   l)eo;innino;  with    that     of    the 

103 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

Prince  of  Gallia  at  the  end.  The  clatter  of 
knives  and  forks  and  olasses,  with  a  run- 
nino^  accompaniment  of  low  or  harsh  chatter 
which  makes  the  indoor  table  d'hotes  o-et  on 
one's  nerves,  were  here  not  noticeable  ;  the 
accompaniment  being,  in  this  case,  the  music 
of  the  excellent  band  which  was  playing  in 
the  Kiosque  below. 

Hundreds  of  well-dressed  people  were 
walking  to  and  fro  on  the  lower  terrace  and 
about  the  music-stand ;  while  the  real  lovers 
of  music  were  seated  on  the  chairs  placed 
before  the  orchestra. 

Shortly  after  nine,  when  the  dinner  was 
over,  the  party  rose  and  began  to  join  the 
promenaders,  walking  up  and  down  before 
the  music. 

"  You  are  comino;  to  dance  with  me  later 
on?"  Mrs.  flewson,  the  finest  dancer,  the 
most  graceful  and  best  dressed  woman  of 
Homburg,  asked  Campbell,  who  was  walk- 
ing with  her  and  her  husband. 

104 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

"  I  am  afraid  "  —  Campljell  was  just  say- 
ing, when  Hewson  cut  in  hurriedly  with  — 

"  Oh,  I  forgot  to  tell  you.  It  is  all  right 
a])Out  that  affair  I  told  you  of  this  mornino- ; 
the  cards  were  sent  to  them  before  dinner." 

"  Hang  it  all,"  Campbell  said  impatiently, 
"  why  did  you  not  tell  me  that  before.  Now, 
T  haven't  got  a  ticket,  and  I  want  so  much 
to  dance  with  Mrs,  Hewson.  I  feel  just  in 
the  mood  for  a  good  dance."   . 

He  really  felt  exultant.  Perhaps  it  was 
the  pretty  woman  at  his  side,  and  the 
pleasant  dinner,  and  the  music,  and  the 
atmosphere  of  the  whole  place.  But,  no 
doubt,  there  was  some  exultation  at  what  he 
thought  must  probably  be  his  victory. 

"  You  can  o-et  a  ticket  at  once  from  one 
of  those  people.  You  know  them  all.  I 
have  seen  one  or  two  of  them  on  the  terrace 
just  now." 

"  All  right,"  Campbell  said  impatiently  as 
he  left  them,  "  Til  see." 

105 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

He  walked  up  and  down  searching  for  one 
of  his  friends  who  could  i^et  him  a  ticket, 
when  tlie  old  Duko  of  Oxford  passed  with 
a  lady  and  several  men,  and  responded  to 
his  bow  by  shoutino- : 

"And  how  is  the  oreat  Radical  statesman  ?  " 
They  shook  hands  and  the  Duke  asked  him 
what  lady  he  was  lookino-  for  so  intently. 
Campbell  told  him  that  he  was  looking  for 
some  one  to  ""et  him  a  ticket  for  the  dance. 

"Oh,  stay  with  us,"  said  the  Duke,  "we 
are  all  groing  and  you  can  come  in  with  us. 
We  shall  only  walk  here  for  a  little  while 
longer,  and  then   we  join  the  dancers." 

So  it  was  that  Campbell  entered  the  ball- 
room on  the  upper  floor  of  the  Kurhaus  —  the 
splendid  edifice  which,  like  the  sister  build- 
ings at  Baden-Baden  and  Wiesbaden,  could 
only  be  erected  out  of  the  proceeds  of  years 
of  gambling  —  in  the  company  of  the  Duke 
of  Oxford. 

They  were  given  seats  together  near  tlie 

106 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

entrance.  The  dancing  had  ah'eady  begun, 
and  Campbell  sat  with  the  royal  party  watch- 
ins:  the  dancers.  Presently  he  thought  that 
he  might  now  leave  the  distinguished  group 
and  dance  himself.  He  was  just  about  to  ask 
Mrs.  Hewson  for  a  dance  when  he  perceived 
a  certain  movement  among  a  group  of 
American  ladies  he  was  just  passing,  and 
heard  them  say,   "  There  they  are." 

Following  the  direction  in  which  they 
were  lookino-  he  saw  three  ladies  who  had 
just  entered  the  ball-room,  and  were  stand- 
ins;  too-ether,  somewhat  isolated  from  the 
crowd  near  the  door.  One  of  them  seemed 
older,  and  was  probably  a  married  woman ; 
the  two  others  were  evidently  unmarried 
vouno;er  sisters.  They  were  tall  and  rather 
•uninteresting  in  their  looks.  All  three  had 
dark  hair  and  rather  long  aquiline  noses.  He 
was  wondering,  as  he  examined  them  care- 
fully,  whether,    if  he    had   known    nothing 

before,    he    would    have    classified  them  as 

107 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

Semitic,  English-Xorman  in  race,  French, 
Italian,  or  Spanish.  He  realised,  as  he  had 
so  often  done,  how  })uerile  it  was  to  attempt 
seriously  to  establish  ethnoloo-ical  distinc- 
tions  within  the  confused  mixture  of  races  to 
be  found  in  all  European  peoples. 

They  were  dressed  simply  and  without 
much  chic.  But  he  was  irritated  by  the  fact 
that  they  should  each  of  them  have  worn 
such  splendid  and  costly  jewels,  some  of 
them  bearing  distinctly  the  character  of  old 
heirlooms,  —  which,  no  doubt,  they  had 
bought. 

He  felt  suffused  by  a  glow  of  anger  that 
they  should  have  come  at  all,  after  the  tardy 
invitation  had  almost  been  extracted  by 
force.  And  a  certain  dignity  and  marked 
assurance  in  their  demeanour  as  they  stood 
there  in  their  isolated  position,  with  so 
many  people  staring  at  them,  as  if  they  were 
accustomed  or  hardened  to  that  kind  of 
thing,  angered  him    all    the   more.     Under 

108 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

other  circumstances  he  would  have  admired 
the  pluck  and  character  in  their  demeanour. 

Still,  after  the  tir.st  Inirst  of  protest  and 
irritation,  he  returned  to  his  first  mood 
of  stolid  purpose: — the  more  they  were 
shunned,  the  more  was  it  incumbent  upon 
him  to  help  them.  And  so,  as  at  that 
moment  he  saw  his  friend  Lord  Hampton 
bow  formally  to  them,  without,  however, 
advancing,  he  hastily  walked  up  to  him  and 
said  : 

''  Hampton,  I  want  you  to  do  me  a 
favour." 

"With  all  mv  heart,  mv  dear  bov,"  said 
Lord  Hampton  cheerfully,  ''  if  it  is  anything 
within  my  power." 

"  I   want   you   to    introduce  me   to   those 

three  ladies  you  have  just  been  bowing  to, 

and  at  once."     Campbell  spoke  eagerly,  and 

was  alreadv  seizino;  his  friend  bv  the  arm  to 

dras  him  on. 

"But,  mv  dear  fellow,  I  hardlv  know  them 

109 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

and "  —  Lord  Hampton  seemed  embar- 
rassed, almost  displeased.  He  looked  at 
his  friend  with  a  puzzled  expression.  The 
doubt  which  flashed  through  his  mind  was 
so  thoroughly  out  of  keeping  with  what  years 
of  friendship,  from  childhood  upwards,  had 
taught  him  of  Campbell's  character,  that  he 
at  once  dispelled  it. 

Campbell  had  interrupted  him  and  had 
said  rapidly  with  growing  eagerness :  "  I 
have  never  asked  you  for  a  favour,  Hampton, 
and  this  is  so  small  a  matter  ;  but,  fy  liens.'' 

So  Lord  Hampton  shrugged  his  shoulder 
and  advanced  to  the  three  ladies,  Campbell 
following  him,  again  bowed  formally,  whis- 
pered a  few  Avords  to  them,  and  ]\v  the  time 
Campbell  had  drawn  up  he  had  mentioned 
his  name  to  them  in  a  perfunctory  manner, 
which  displayed  no  pleasure  or  cordiality, 
—  and  the  presentation  was  over.  Lord 
Hampton  at  once  withdrew,  and  Campbell, 

having  asked  the  youngest  of  the  three  for 

110 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

a  dance,  which  she  accorded,  he  also  walked 
off  with  his  partner. 

Campbell   was   not   in   the  best   mood    or 
temper.      He  was   irritated  with  the  manner 
in  which  his  friend  had  met  his  request,  with 
his    friend    himself,    and    with    himself    for 
having  asked  it.     But  he  rapidly  withdrew 
his  anger  from  himself  and  cast  it  in  his  heart 
at  the  young  lady,  whom  he  made  responsible 
for  the  ordeal  he  was  undergoing.     Perhaps 
there  was  still  lurkincr  behind  his  irritation 
a    certain    priggish     self-satisfaction    in    the 
increased  amount  of  difficulties  and  im])edi- 
ments,   of  personal  sacrifice,   which  his  un- 
selfish acting  up  to  principle  brought  with 
it  —  so  that  it  was  rapidly  approaching  the 
heiohts  of  heroic  action. 

His  unfavourable  impression  of  her  was 
not  diminished  by  her  manner  towards  him. 
It  was  not  merely  simple  and  direct,  but 
showed     a     self-possession     and    coolness, 

which,  under  the  circumstances,  approached 

111 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

effrontery.  She  looked  him  straight  in  the 
eyes  in  a  scrutinising  manner  and  cross- 
questioned  him.  She  paid  no  heed  to  his 
questions,  which  he  had  carefully,  with  rare 
tact,  arranged  so  as  in  no  way  to  wound  her  ; 
and  the  simple,  almost  humble  tone  (quite 
foreign  to  him  with  people  of  any  kind) 
which  he  had  considerately  forced  himself 
to  adopt,  was,  as  it  were,  taken  for  granted, 
and  led,  he  indignantly  felt  convinced,  to  a 
complete  misconception  of  his  whole  per- 
sonality. He  was  rapidly  beginning  to  feel 
like  a  fool,  and  did  not  like  her  the  more  for 
feeling  thus. 

Meanwhile  she  plied  him  with  questions, 
which,  as  soon  as  answered  by  him,  were, 
with  a  nod  of  acceptance,  dropped  to  make 
room  for  new  ones.  What  disgusted  him 
most  was  the  low,  vulgar  niveau  of  these 
questions.  They  were  all  personal  inquiries 
concerning  the  people  they  saw  there.     She 

would  put  up  her  long  eyeglasses  and  stare 

112 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

ut  this  lady  and  that  man  and  intjuirr  who 
they  were,  where  they  came  from,  pass  them 
over  with  a  general  remark,  —  that  they  were 
good  looking  or  not,  well  dressed  or  not. 
And  then  she  would  cap  the  climax  by  such 
brutal  questions  as  "  She  is  very  rich,  is  she 
not  ? "  or  "  They  are  great  people  in  their 
country,  are  they?"  "This  is  almost  the 
caricature  of  Hebrew  Characteristics,"  Camp- 
bell said  to  himself. 

All  she  said,  moreover,  was  couched  in 
miserable  Enolish,  with  a  stroma  German 
accent ;  words  not  only  mispronounced,  but 
misplaced  and  tortured  out  of  all  form  and 
pro})ortion  of  meaning ;  slang  expressions 
made  coarse  by  their  juxtaposition  to  a 
Avord  only  used  in  classical  literature. 
Camp1)ell,  Avho  had  a  sensitive  ear  and  a 
most  delicate  a})preciati()n  of  the  niceties 
and  elegances  of  the  Enolish  lano-uao-e,  suf- 
fered  acute  pain  as  he  heard  it  tortured  with 
cruel  insensibility. 

113 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

But  the  cliuiax  of  his  suffering,  which  had 
already  produced  an  intense  state  of  irrita- 
tion, was  reached  when  he  began  to  dance. 

Here,  too,  was  the  same  impertinent  wil- 
fulness which  marked  her  whole  personality. 
She  had  assured  him  that  she  could  dance 
the  trois-tenvps,  the  Boston,  as  she  called  it ; 
but  the  rhythm  of  her  waltz  was  still  the 
deux-temps.  In  fact,  there  was  no  rhythm  at 
all,  and  no  time.  She  could  not  have  had 
an  ear  for  music. 

Campbell  had  made  a  paraphrase  of  the 
French  saying,  "Dans  Va7nour  il  y  a  toujours 
un  qui  aime  et  T autre  qui  se  laisse  aimer ^^'' 
maintaining  that  it  was  all  right  in  such  cases 
if  it  was  the  better  and  stronger  who  was  the 
active  one  ;  and  he  especially  applied  this  to 
a  couple  dancing. 

In  spite    of   her  incompetence    she    still 

insisted  upon  leading  him,  who  was  known 

to  be,   and  was,  an  excellent  dancer.     The 

result  was  that  they  were  bobbing  about  out 

114 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

of  time  and  bum})ing  against  every  other 
couple  ;  until  Campbell,  red  in  the  face  with 
real  anger  and  not  with  the  exertion,  cauo-ht 
her  firmly  round  the  waist  and  pressed  her 
wrist  so  tightly  with  his  other  hand  that  it 
must  have  pained  her,  and,  with  a  suppressed 
snort  or  grunt,  whirled  her  round  after  his 
own  fashion,  forcing  her  into  his  own  steps 
and  guiding  her  by  sheer  muscular  com- 
pulsion. 

AVhen  he  had  triumphantly  wheeled  her 
into  his  step,  and  she  just  had  whispered, 
"  What  a  good  dancer  you  are  I  ■'  he  reached 
the  place  where  her  sisters  were  standing, 
and,  w^ithout  further  ceremony,  he  deposited 
her  there,  bowed,  and  walked  away,  red  in 
the  face  and  boiling"  with  rage. 

This  frame  of  mind  could  not  even  be  dis- 
pelled by  a  dance  with  Mrs.  Plewson,  who 
was  a  perfect  dancer  and  with  whom  he  loved 
to  waltz.     It  almost  seemed  as  if  he  had  been 

contaminated  by  his  previous   bad  dancing 

115 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

company.  Mrs.  Hewson  remarked  the 
change  and  said  :  "  Why,  you  are  dancing 
badly  to-night.  I  don't  recognise  you.  You 
are  rough,  heavy,  and  coarse  in  your  move- 
ments.    I  really  do  not  recognise  you." 

"  Oh,  I  am  out  of  sorts,  and  dancing  is, 
like  the  practice  of  every  art,  expressive  of 
personality  and  even  of  moods.  Forgive  me 
for  this  evenino^.  We'll  have  a  o-ood  one 
some  other  day." 

And  with  this  he  left  her  and  the  ball- 
room, and  sulkily  went  home  to  ])ed. 


IV 


ON  the  afternoon  of  the  next  day,  Camp- 
bell Avas  bicycling  steadily  up-hill  on 
his  way  to  the  Saalburg.  It  was  a  very  still 
pull,  a  continuous  ascent ;  but  the  prospect 
of  a  delightful  coast  the  whole  way  back 
made  him  forijet  the  strain.     He  had  got  to 

the  end  of  the  wide  road  planted  Avith  trees 

116 


A    IIOMKURG    STORY 

which  merofes  into  a  narrow  avenue  cut 
through  the  Avoods,  and  half-way  through 
this,  when  he  saw  a  young  lady  immediately 
in  fi-ont  of  him  dismount  from  her  bicycle  in 
haste  and  l)egin  a  careful  examination  of  the 
hind  wheel.  As  he  drew  up  he  noticed  a 
gesture  of  impotent  despair,  and  he  could 
clearly  see  the  expression  of  distress  on  a 
face  that  at  once  arrested  his  attention.  For 
the  time,  however,  the  anxiety  expressed  in 
her  countenance  directed  his  eyes  from  her 
face  wholly  towards  the  cause  of  her  distress. 

He  dismounted,  raised  his  cap,  and  said  : 
"  I  fear  you  have  had  an  accident.  Can  1 
]  )e  of  any  service  to  you  ?  " 

"Thank  you,  I  really  do  not  wish  to 
trouble  and  detain  you.  T  fear  I  have  punc- 
tured  my  tire.  There  will  probaldy  be 
some  cab  passing  which  will  take  me  home." 

"  I  doubt  whether  vou  w^ill  meet  anv  dis- 
encased  cab  here  or  for  some  distance  on. 

You  nuist  allow  me  to  help  you.      T  know 

117 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

how  to  deal  with  bicycles,  and  if  it  is  only  a 
punctured  tire  I  can  repair  that.  I  have 
the  materials  in  my  case." 

"  Oh,  it  would  be  very  kind  of  you,"  she 
said  in  a  more  joyful  tone,  the  anxiety 
havino;  entirely  vanished  from  her  voice  and 
face.  "  But  I  really  do  not  wish  to  delay 
you  and  spoil  3'our  ride." 

But  he  had  already  kneeled  down,  and 
began  in  a  workmanlike  way  to  examine  the 
machine.  He  was  so  full  of  the  task  before 
him  that  he  almost  forgot  the  young  lady, 
and  only  thought  of  her  as  an  assistant 
worker,  giving  her  orders  to  hold  the 
machine  this  way  or  that,  while  he  tested 
it.  He  began  to  pump  the  back  tire,  which 
had  been  depleted. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  there  is  a  puncture  here, 
thouoh  I  can't  find  it.  I  can  make  it  hold 
fairly  well  ;  and  if  you  pump  once  or  twice 
you  can  get  back  to  Homburg.     Where  were 

you  bound  for  ?  " 

118 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

"I  was  ffoino-  up  to  the  Saal])urff,"  she 
said.  "  My  people  drove  on  with  their 
bicycles  in  the  trap,  to  have  tea  there  and 
then  to  coast  back.  But  I  was  so  proud 
that,  in  spite  of  their  warnings  as  to  the 
stitFness  of  the  pull,  I  determined  to  cycle 
all  the  way  up.  It  appeared  to  me  a  feeble 
thing  to  have  yourself  driven  the  whole  way 
and  then  to  ride  back.  You  would  probably 
call  it  unsportsmanlike,"  she  added. 

"  I  have  the  same  feeling,"  he  said,  smil- 
ing ;  and  now  he  forgot  the  bicycle  and  the 
punctured  tire  and  looked  straight  into  the 
lovely  face  before  him,  which  exercised  a 
fascination,  disturbing  and  calming  at  once, 
such  as  he  had  never  experienced  before. 
Perhaps  it  was  the  up-hill  exertion  or  his 
bending-down  over  the  wheel,  but  there  was 
a  flutter  in  the  region  of  his  heart. 

"  Yes,  I  have  the   same  feeling.     In  my 

Alpine  climbing  days  I  would  not  drive  the 

moment  I  had  set  foot   in  Switzerland,  and 

119 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

used  to  sneer  at  the  people  who  drove  up  to 
the  foot  of  the  mountain  and  then  began 
their  clinil).  But  I'll  tell  you  the  ])cst  thino' 
to  do  with  the  l)icycle.  I  am  ])ound  for  the 
Saalburg,  too.  The  tire  will  hold  until  we 
get  to  the  end  of  this  avenue,  and  then 
begins  a  steep  ascent  to  the  right,  where 
even  I,  who  have  'sportsmanlike'  feelings, 
intended  to  dismount  and  to  push  the  ma- 
chine up-hill.  Then  I'll  help  you  up  the 
hill  with  your  machine.  At  the  Saalburg 
there  will  ])e  time  and  all  facilities  for  re- 
pairing the  puncture." 

She  gratefully  agreed  to  this  on  condition 
that  he  would  allow  her  to  push  her  own 
machine. 

And    so    they    started    otf.     Her   bicycle 

held    out    while  she    was    riding    it   and  for 

some    distance    while     they    were     pushing 

their  machines  up-hill   through    the  woods. 

Caiupltfll     admii'ed    the    iirm    and    graceful 

w;ilk   of  lliis   slim  figure,  elastic  and  strong, 

120 


A    HO M BURG    STORY 

the  way  she  phinted  her  thin  foot  tirnily  on 
the  oTound,  and  the  erectness  of  her  carriaoc. 
She  wore  a  bhick  short  skirt  reaching  to  her 
ankles,  simple  in  its  art,  the  seams  sho wing- 
outside  ;  it  had  the  charaetev  of  a  riding- 
habit.  A  white  blouse,  the  sleeves  not  too 
slavishly  following  the  fashion  in  exaggerated 
width.  A  high  man's  collar  and  a  l)right 
red  tie,  the  only  touch  of  colour  in  her  cos- 
tume, gave  her  a  ])oyish  appearance  ;  while 
a  black  toque,  with  a  somewhat  defiant 
straio^ht  l)lack  feather  rising  l)ack wards  and 
still  upwards,  Avas  placed  slightly  to  the  side, 
and  gave  a  l)risk  and  energetic,  though  not 
forward  turn  to  the  head.  But  the  predomi- 
nant character  of  the  face  was  seriousness. 

The  road  was  not  as  good  as  it  had 
hitherto  been,  and  the  ascent  was  steep. 
Campl)ell  felt  the  severity  of  the  exertion  in 
pushing  the  machine  up.  He  noticed  that 
she  was  toiling  hard,  Init,  bracing  herself  up 

and   smiling,    she    endeavoured  to  hide  her 

121 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

effort .  At  the  same  time  he  noticed  that  the 
back  tire  had  ap^ain  become  depleted,  and 
that  her  machine  was  bumping  over  the 
road.  And  when  he  heard  the  trickling  of 
water  in  the  woods  on  his  right  hand, 
whither  a  path  seemed  to  lead,  he  gladly  in- 
tervened and  said : 

"  This  will  really  not  do.  You  may  cut 
the  rim  of  your  tire,  should  you  mount  it, 
and  spoil  the  whole  machine.  '  A  stitch  in 
time/  you  know.  I  hear  the  trickling  of  a 
spring  close  by  here.  I  am  sure  this  path 
leads  there." 

The  young  lady  was  evidently  glad  to 
halt.  As  she  stood  leaning  on  her  wheel, 
the  courageous,  almost  defiant  expression 
had  left  her,  and  her  voice  had  a  soft  tremor 
as  of  a  child  in  distress  as  she  said : 

"  If  you  really  think   you   can   repair  it, 

and  it  does  not  delav  vou  too  long,  I  should 

be  most  o-rateful  if  vou  would  do  it." 

He    led   the   way   along   the    narrow  path 

122 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

made  soft  and  spring}'  hy  dry  pine  needles, 
and  started  with  surprise  and  delight  as  he 
came  upon  a  little  clearing  in  the  woods  on 
the  hillside,  with  a  pretty  stream  trickling 
over  stones  and  pebbles,  rapidly  down  the 
hill  from  a  spring  welling  out  from  the  rocks 
overhung  with  boughs.  It  must  have  been 
known  as  a  fountain  with  good  water,  for, 
on  a  stone  bv  the  side,  stood  a  bright  tin 
cup,  carefully  kept  clean  ])y  the  workmen  in 
the  woods.  But  what  riveted  his  g-aze  was 
the  vast,  clear,  and  brilliantlv  lio'hted  scene 
before  him  and  at  his  feet,  which  stretched 
for  miles  in  the  distance,  lost  at  last  in  the 
deep  blue  haze  of  the  Taunus  hills  rising  be- 
yond the  plain.  As  he  stepped  out  of  the 
dark  shade  of  the  woods  to  the  verge  of  all 
this  expanse  of  light,  his  eyes  were  foirly 
dazzled  by  the  brilliant  contrast.  And 
there,  in  the  middle  distance,  gladly  and 
comfortably  settled  on  its  slighter  elevation, 

lay   Homburg,    drinking    in    the   light,    and 

123 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

shedding  back  twinkles  of  sunshine  from  its 
blinking  windows  and  roofs,  with  the  tower 
of  its  old  castle  no  lono-er  frowninir  in  its 
stolid  feudal  pride  of  a  vanished  sover- 
eignty, but  smiling  down  in  aged  l)enignity 
upon  the  gay  folly  of  its  modern  flitting 
world  of  fjishion. 

For  the  moment  he  had  forgotten  the 
woods  and  the  stream,  his  fair  companion 
and  the  purpose  of  their  quest.  And  when 
he  turned,  his  eyes  could  not  at  once  discern 
her.  He  could  only  see  a  shadowed  outline 
rising  against  the  dark  background  of  foli- 
age, the  white  mass  of  the  blouse,  and  the 
l)right  red  speck  of  the  tie.  But  as  his  eyes 
ao-ain  became  accustomed  to  the  softer  lio^ht 
of  the  woods,  the  sight  before  him,  compact 
and  limited  in  scope,  harmonized  into  a  real 
picture  which  held  his  eye  more  completely 
and  with  a  thrill  more  ])enetrating  than  the 
disttmt  and  extended  valley  bathed  in  sun- 
light. 

124 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

By  the  moss-covered  rock,  brown,  grey, 
and  bluish,  Avith  its  trickling,  silvery  stream 
and  the  overhanging  boughs  of  deep  and 
bright  oreen,  stood  the  oirl,  erect,  but  for  a 
sliffht  forward  inclination  of  the  head.  She 
mioiit  hiLve  been  a  Hio-hlaiid  tiueen.  But 
the  ftice,  the  face,  riveted  his  attention.  The 
hair  in  thick  waves  framed  the  delicate 
features  heavily,  so  that  it  a]:)peared  almost 
too  great  a  weight  for  them  to  bear.  It  was 
dark  brown,  with  a  reddish-aolden  sheen. 
And  the  eyes,  with  the  arched  dark  l)rows, 
seemed  to  reflect  briohtly  and  vet  softlv  the 
liij:ht  of  the  view  she  was  lookino;  ui)on.  The 
scene  before  her  seemed  to  have  come  upon 
her  as  in  a  trance  ;  she  gazed  fixedly  ;  and 
then  the  tension  of  her  Avhole  countenance 
seemed  to  relax  and  a  soft  smile  stole  over 
the  face  as  her  lips  parted  and  she  whispered 
in  a  deep  tone  :  "  How  lovely  this  is  !  "  Still 
she  continued  to  gaze,  but  her  eyes  moved 

about  to  the  various  points  of  the  landscape. 

125 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

Campbell,  who  feared  that  she  might 
notice  his  stare,  tried  to  follow  the  direction 
of  her  look  towards  the  happy  scene  before 
them  ;  but  his  eyes  would  return  to  her  and 
drink  in  their  fill  of  the  loveliness  there. 
Suddenly  she  turned  to  him  and  noticed  his 
stare.  A  rapid  blush  came  over  her  cheeks  ; 
she  looked  awa}',  and  stepped  back. 

Campbell  felt  that  he  had  spoilt  her 
mood,  and,  by  a  correct  divination,  he 
altered  his  manner  and  voice,  and  said 
lightly  in  a  l)usinesslike  tone  : 

"  It  is  very  beautiful ;  but  we  must  not 
waste  our  time.  We  have  got  a  lot  of  work 
before  us." 

And  with  that  he  began  to  move  about, 
pulling  her  bicycle  with  him,  and  resting  it 
beside  the  pool,  l:»elow  the  fountain.  Then, 
taking  off  his  coat  and  rolling  up  the  sleeves 
of  his  white  flannel  shirt,  so  that  his  strong, 
sinewy  arms  could  work  freely,  he  began  to 
take  off  the  tire.     All  the  while,  to  counter- 

126 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

act  the  impression  his  stare  had  made,  he 
was  talking  in  a  quiet  workmanlike  manner. 

"  We  have  quite  a  job  before  us.  And 
you  must  help  me.  Don't  mind  if  I  bully 
you  and  order  you  about.  We  are  fellow- 
workmen  now,  and  you  are  my  assistant." 
And  looking  up  smilingly,  he  added,  in  a 
commanding  tone  : 

"  Come  on,  now.  Don't  stand  about ! 
Hold  this,  while  I  unscrew  the  valve." 

She  gave  a  quick  start  and  smiled.  But 
she  did  not  at  once  enter  into  his  tone  and 
manner  of  brisk  camaraderie,  and  said  : 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  grateful  to  you,  and  so  very 
sorry  for  all  the  trouble  I  am  giving  you. 
I  am  keeping  you  from  your  ride,  which  I 
have  spoilt;  as  it  is  "  — 

"  Now,  please    first    hold    this,  and    then 

listen    to    me,"    he     said    with    a    dash    of 

scoldino-  in  his  voice.     And  while  she  was 

bending  down  to  hold  the  machine,  he  said 

seriously  : 

127 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

"I  beg  you  not  to  mention  'gratitude' 
or  '  trouble '  Jiny  more.  In  tiie  iirst  place, 
I  am  assured  that  you  are  grateful  to  chance 
which  has  brought  me  to  help  you,  and  to 
me  for  doing  her  behest.  Meanwhile  I  am 
Avell  })leascd  with  having  been  able  to  be  of 
some  service  to  a  lady,  to  have  happened 
upon  this  lovely  spot  I  never  knew  of,  to 
have  met  you,  to  be  here,  and  so  on.  It 
is  not  grateful  or  graceful  not  to  accept  a 
favour  simply  and  to  l)urden  the  hienfaiteur 
with  the  weight  of  painful  obligation  cast 
from  the  recipient's  shoulders,  and  to  retard 
the  advance  of  acquaintance  or  friendship. 
It  impedes  progress  or  renders  friendly 
action  quite  impossible." 

She  smiled  and  looked  u})  at* him,  while 
she  said  with  serious  emphasis  : 

"  You  are  quite  right.  I  have  often  felt 
that.  I  shall  not  mention  it  again.  i\.nd  I 
am  pleased  to  have  met  you." 

"By  the  way,"  he  yHit  in,   "in  Germany 

128 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 


people  introduce  themselves.  It  is  not  a 
bad  i)lan.  At  all  events  I  should  like  you 
to  know  me.  My  name  is  Campbell.  I  am 
an  Englishman,  a  member  of  Parliament." 

"  My  name  is  Lewson.  I  am  an  Ameri- 
can," she  answered  in  the  same  tone. 

Meanwhile  they  chatted  as  they  worked 
on.  Campbell  took  care  to  keep  his  eyes 
on  his  w^ork  and  not  to  look  at  her.  He 
felt  that  her  simple,  bri<«ht,  and  cheerful  talk 
would  be  marred  if  he  trusted  himself  to 
look  up  in  her  eyes. 

He  had  unscrewed  the  valve,  and  ])assiua- 
the  tire-lifter  under  the  wire  he  forced  it 
round  and  took  out  the  inner  tube.  She 
watched  all  his  movements  with  the  greatest 
attention ;  and  he  explained  what  he  was 
doing  as  he  proceeded,  giving  her  a  lesson 
in  repairing  punctures. 

There   was  quite    a  joyful    tone  ])etween 

them  ;   something   of  the  nature  of  children 

who  are  busily   engaged   in  some   elaborate 

129 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

construction,  the  little  sister  following  the 
brother  al)out  as  he  works  on  l)iisily.  She 
had  reji'ained  all  her  naturalness  and  Avas 
enjoying  it  fully,  forgetful  of  the  accident 
and  of  the  fact  that  the  man  with  "svhoni  she 
was  thus  alone  in  the  woods  had  been  an 
utter  stranger  to  her  less  than  an  hour  ago. 

But  he  had  not  regained  his  full  self- 
possession  ;  he  was  preoccupied  while  he  was 
apparently  absorbed  in  his  work,  and  his 
jaunty  air  of  command  would  have  had  to  a 
careful  observer  a  ring  of  insincerity  ;  it  was 
forced.  ^Moreover,  the  same  observer  would 
have  been  struck  by  the  fact  that,  while  her 
eyes  wandered  freely  from  the  object  he  was 
touchinir  and  from  his  hands  to  his  face,  he 
kept  his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  work,  more 
than  was  in  reality  needed,  and  did  not  once 
look  into  her  face. 

He  kept    this    up    during  the  process    of 

taking  out   the  inner  tube  and  examining  it 

to    discover    the    puncture.     AVhen   even    a 

130 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

minute  examination  did  not  lead  to  its  detec- 
tion, he  proceeded  to  the  next  expedient  of 
putting  the  inner  tube  in  the  water. 

They  returned  to  the  fountain,  which  they 
had  left  to  have  a  better  lisht.  He  did  not 
even  look  into  her  face  when  they  agreed  to 
have  a  drink  of  the  clear  spring  Avater ;  and 
he  gave  her  a  cup,  which  she  drained  with 
keen  enjoyment,  he  drinking  after  her. 

But,  when  holdins:  the  tube  carefullv  in 
the  water  with  Ijoth  hands,  and  stretchins:  it 
as  he  passed  it  on  to  discover  the  bubble 
from  the  hole  of  the  puncture,  she  crouched 
near  him  and  })eered  eagerly  into  the  pool, 
he  at  tirst  gazed  at  her  image  reflected  in 
the  clear  water,  her  black  feather  nodding 
on  the  ruffled  surface,  and  then  the  eyes 
held  his  own.  They  were  of  a  l)luish  green, 
wonderfulh'  brio-ht,  but  their  brio-htness  was 
softened  and  sul)dued  by  the  dark  brows 
and  lashes,  and  the  serious,  almost  sad  ex- 
pression of  the  whole  face  seen  thus  in  the 

131 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

water  over  which  they  were  l)ending  filled 
him  with  a  mysterious  thrill  which  was 
almost  uncanny.  He  could  restrain  himself 
no  longer,  and  stopped  passing  the  tube ; 
the  blood  was  all  in  his  head  and  he  felt 
giddy. 

As  he  looked  up,  she  also  raised  her  head 
and  he  looked  straight  into  her  eyes,  the 
deep  and  yet  limpid  beauty  of  which  the 
image  in  the  water  had  but  feebly  reflected. 

He  could  not  command  his  voice,  and 
there  was  some  emotion  in  its  ring  as  he 
(juoted  in  German  : 

'^'Halh  zog  sie  il/ii,  /Ktlb  sav^'  er  kin".    .    . 

She  at  once  seized  upon  his  quotation 
from  Goethe's  "  Der  Fischer,"'  and  the  rapid 
])lush  having  made  way  for  a  slight  expres- 
sion of  coquetry,  she  said  : 

"  No  !  no  dangerous  nixie  ;  but,  as  I  saw 
my  toque  and  waving  feather  in  the  water 
just    now,    it    reminded    me  of  a  mild  and 

attenuated  Mephistopheles." 

132 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 


He  feared  the  heavier  wave  of  sentiment 
which  threatened  to  gain  possession  of  him, 
and  thus  irretrievably  spoil  the  pleasant  tone 
of  his  new  conn-adeship ;  and  so  he  said 
with  forced  lightness  : 

"  If  I  were  Faust  there  would  be  no  need 
of  his  producing  a  Gretchcn." 

She  evidently  did  not  appreciate  the  taste 
of  this  remark,  and  he  at  once  added  : 

"  Now  we  must  push  on  our  work.  We 
must  find  that  wicked  little  puncture." 

"  Please  let  me  try  ;  and  show  me  how  to 
do  it,"  she  said  eagerly,  and  was  the  little 
sister  ao;ain.      "  It  looks  so  fascinating." 

And  so,  having  bared  her  white  arms, 
she  thrust  them  into  the  clear  pool  under 
the  overhano-ino;  bouo;hs.  lie  touched  her 
hands  and  felt  a  warm  thrill  shooting  to  his 
heart,  though  the  water  was  cold.  As  she 
stretched  the  tube  piece  by  piece  soon  there 
was  a  tiny  crystalline    air-bubble  rising  to 

the  surface. 

13:^ 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

"  Stop  there,*'  he  cried,  and  she  started 
as  he  held  her  hand.  "  There  is  the  little 
culprit." 

He  had  found  the  puncture,  and  soon 
had  pasted  the  strip  of  rulilior  over  it.  She 
now  watched  him  as  he  put  the  tube  back 
and  held  the  machine,  while  he  pumped  the 
air  in  again.  Tlien  he  dried  her  hands  and 
his  with  his  handkerchief,  put  on  his  coat, 
and  they  were  ready  to  start. 

"  Oh,  I  must  have  one  more  look,"  she  said, 
as  they  were  turning  to  leave.  And  she 
stept  forward  into  the  l)riglit  sunlight  and 
o-azed  over  the  lovely  scene  ao-ain.  He 
stood  close  beside  her  and  tliey  both  joined 
in  their  rapture  over  one  of  nature's  lovely 
scenes.  Contemplation  of  beauty  in  nature 
or  art  is  a  common  ground  of  disinterested 
and  elevating  pleasure,  an  unf^iiling  source 
of  happiness  which  will  always  bind  the 
hearts  of  men  together  in  peace  and  good- 
will,  if  not.  in  love. 

134 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

And  then  they  returned  to  the  main  road 
and  resumed  their  ascent,  chatting  quietly 
and  naturally  as  if  they  were  old    friends. 

The  seclusion  and  uncommonness  of  the 
spot  they  had  left  seemed  almost  to  have 
given  -an  intimacy  and  depth  to  their  ac- 
quaintanceship which  hours  along  the  high- 
road or  in  the  streets  and  drawing-rooms 
of  a  town  could  not  have  yielded.  When 
they  returned  to  the  road  it  seemed  as  if  a 
chapter  in  a  stor}^  had  been  completed  ;  as 
if  they  had  met  a^ain  after  some  absence,  — 
like  people  who  had  known  each  other  be- 
fore. 

And  when  they  reached  the  top  of  the  hill 
and  came  in  view  of  the  Saalburg  and  of 
two  ladies  who  were  evidently  awaiting  them, 
and  were  lookino-  anxiously  for  their  sister, 
the  young  lady  could  hardly  realise  that 
Campbell  was  but  a  chance  accquainta'nce 
met  but  an  hour  ago.  And  as  she  introduced 
him  to  her  sisters,  she  felt  some  embarrass- 

135 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

nient  as  to  how  she  could  account  for  the 
iut'oi-niul  unci  ahnost  intimate  footin<>;  upon 
which  she  felt  herself  with  him. 

She  was  herself  chilled  by  the  reserve 
with  which  they  received  him.  Though, 
after  her  hasty  account  of  what  had  hap- 
pened and  what  he  had  done,  they  thanked 
him  for  his  kindness,  their  manner  struck 
her  as  forbidding  and  prudish.  She  did  not 
realise  that,  as  a  rule,  she  was  the  more  re- 
served of  the  three. 

Campbell  liked  the  other  ladies.  He  at 
once  felt  that  they  were  womedi  of  high 
breeding  and  refinement.  The  eldest,  Mrs. 
Morton,  was  married,  the  other,  the  youngest 
sister  of  the  three,  was  called  Ethel  by  them. 
His  own  friend's  name  was  Margaret. 

But  their  manner  warmed  to  him  under 

the    charm    of  his    own  fresh  cheerfulness, 

which    never  would    l)rook    reserve    in    the 

people    who     pleased    him,    as    it    at     once 

disarmed    affectation    or    haughtiness,    and 

136 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

made  them    ridiculous.     This    buo^^ancy  of 
spirit  and  natural  grace  and  good  nature  of 
manner  no  doubt  came  from  his  Irish  mother. 
Humour  is  the  unfailing  antidote  to  })ride. 

He  proposed  that  they  should  order  their 
tea  to  be  ready  in  half  an  hour,  and  that, 
meanwhile,  they  should  inspect  the  Roman 
camp,  of  which  there  was  so  fine  a  specimen 
near.  He  naturally  took  the  ai'ranoements 
in  his  hands,  and  they  as  naturally  seemed 
to  accept  his  leadership. 

The  last  vestio-es  of  reserve  seemed  to 
vanish  from  the  tAvo  sisters,  when  he  began 
to  show  them  over  this  interesting  camp  in 
the  woods.  His  accurate  knowledo-e  and 
his  clear  and  precise  diction  gave  him 
authority  and  evoked  respect ;  and  so  they 
all  three  grouped  round  him  when  he  l»egan 
to  point  out  and  to  describe  the  remains, 
and,  with  direct  and  graphic  touches,  to 
restore  to  life  the  past  which  had  left  such 
clear  footprints  on  those  northern  Iiills. 

137 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

The  questions  they  asked,  on  the  rare 
occasions  when  they  interrupted  his  account, 
were  pertinent  and  intelligent,  and  helped 
him  to  give  a  continuous  story  of  the  ancient 
Roman  settlement.  They  were  not  of  that 
exasperating  order  which  shows  a  mis- 
placed curiosity  for  unessential  or  unimpor- 
tant things,  or  vapid  and  senseless  inter- 
ruptions made  to  hide  a  want  of  interest  or 
to  display  sham  knowledge. 

He  pointed  out  to  them  the  shops  of 
the  traders  before  the  Porta  Decumana,  who 
gathered  there  from  all  parts  of  the  ancient 
world  to  profit  by  the  legions  in  the  camp. 
Besides  these  traders,  the  inhal)itants  of 
the  adjoining  country,  attracted  by  the 
protection  and  security  of  the  spot,  swelled 
the  number  of  people  outside  the  forti- 
fications ;  veterans  from  the  legions  and 
companies  also  settled  there,  and  thus  the 
cariahce  grew  into  villages  ;  nay,  towns.  He 
pointed   in  the   direction   of  the   great   city 

138 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

Mayence,  not  many  miles  otF,  which  had 
thus  grown  up  out  of  a  Roman  camp,  like 
Strassburg,  Vienna,  and  many  other  famous 
modern  cities.  He  led  them  into  the  gate 
flanked  by  its  towers  and  walls,  with  the 
fossa  surroundino-  them  ;  and  from  a  hioher 
point,  with  the  help  of  sketches  which  he 
rapidly  drew  on  the  back  of  a  letter  he  took 
from  his  pocket,  he  showed  them  the  plan 
of  the  whole  camp  :  with  the  Prfetorium  and 
Quoestorium,  the  drill  grounds,  Ijaths,  sanct- 
uary, and  bases  of  statues  (even  in  this 
lonely  camp)  ;  the  Porta  Prretoria,  the 
Porta  Principalis  dextra  and  sinistra,  and 
the  distant  confines  of  the  settlement  visible 
throuo;h  cuttings  in  the  woods.  Then  he 
pointed  to  the  Roman  road,  stretching  -on 
for  miles  and  joining  the  vast  system  of 
roads  connecting,  for  commercial  and  mili- 
tary purposes,  the  whole  of  the  European 
continent    under    Roman    sway,   nearly  two 

thousand  years  ago. 

139 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

And  then  he  grew  eloquent,  and  with 
singuhir  power  he  recalled  to  life  the  past  of 
this  lonely  camp  in  the  north  of  Germany. 
He  gave  a  rapid  sketch  in  broad  lines  of  the 
Roman  history  and  policy  of  these  days ; 
and  then,  in  the  person  of  a  Roman  officer 
there  commanding,  he  described  the  orders 
and  duties  and  tasks  of  each  day.  Finally, 
to  give  real  life  to  his  picture,  he  drew  an 
analogy  between  modern  Great  Britain  and 
ancient  Rome  and  between  the  pioneer  work 
of  the  settlers  and  fiohters  in  South  Africa, 
whose  camps  in  the  distant  woods  corre- 
sponded to  this  Roman  camp,  and  the  Roman 
legions  of  old.  "But  Rome,"  he  ended, 
"was  supreme,  and  there  were  no  rivals  of 
equal  strength  to  interfere,  as  the  other 
European  powers  oppose  our  advance.  On 
the  other  hand,  there  was  then  no  effective 
tribunal  of  public  morality,  no  spiritual  con- 
science of  nations,  of  which  we  all  have  to 
take  account  in  modern  times,  —  thank  God, 

140 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

a  real  power  Avith  us,  unknown  to  the  ancient 
world,  and  to  which  we  Englishmen,  I  hope, 
will  always  pay  due  tril)ute,  though  we  shall 
insist  upon  advancing,  unchecked  l)y  any 
power,  because  we  know  that  our  advance 
always  means  the  common  advance  of  civili- 
sation." 

He  had  really  spoken  these  last  words  with 
a  feiwour  which  carried  him  away  ;  while  the 
ladies  Avere  listening  to  him  in  rapt  and 
breathless  attention.  He  stopped  suddenly 
and  altered  his  tone  as  he  said  softly : 

"  Why,  I  have  been  carried  away  into  a 
political  speech  at  the  hustings,  and  have 
drifted  back  into  my  own  'shop,'  from  which 
I  apparently  cannot  free  myself.  But  now 
we  had  better  return  to  the  inn  and  our  tea ; 
for,  though  it  takes  an  astonishingly  short 
time  to  coast  back  to  Homburo-  it  is  o-ettino- 
late." 

On  their  way  back  to  the  inn  the  elder 
sister  told  him  that  she  had  never  supposed 


THE    SUKFACE    OF    THINGS 

Roman  antiquities  could  be  made  so  inter- 
esting and  poetic.  Even  though  she  feh 
how  much  was  due  to  his  eloquence  and  the 
beauty  of  this  lonely  spot,  the  life  of  the 
Romans,  into  which  he  had  led  them,  and 
with  which  he  had  made  them  sym})athise, 
seemed  to  her  more  full  of  poetry  thart  she 
had  realised  before. 

"  I  must  say,"  he  replied,  "  that  I  am  my- 
self astonished  that  I  have  put  poetry  and 
warmth  into  my  account  of  Roman  military 
life  and  any  Roman  antiquities,  as  you  assure 
me  I  have  done.  For  I  will  confess  to  you 
that  Rome  and  Roman  antiquities  are  most 
antipathetic  to  me  personally.  All  in  ancient 
Rome  that  a})peals  to  me  as  admirable  and 
worthy  of  being  perpetuated  in  its  influence 
was  merely  a  reflex  of  the  l)rilliant,  and  still 
mellow,  glow  of  Hellenic  civilisation.  Even 
the  spirit  of  enterprise  and  empire,  which 
they  carried  to  such  glorious  fulfilment,  was 

Hellenic,     from    the    mythical    days  of  the 

142 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

Argonauts    to    the    splendid  rush    of  Alex- 
ander's conquest." 

He  found  in  these  ladies  response  to  his 
enthusiasm  for  Hellenism.  Not  only  had 
they  read  and  studied  Greek  history  and 
literature  ;  luit  they  had  travelled  in  Europe 
and  in  Egypt,  and  Avere  especially  enthusi- 
astic over  Greece  itself,  its  monuments  and 
works  of  art  as  well  as  its  exquisite  land- 
scapes. 

In  fact,  there  was  soon  established  between 
them  that  intellectual  freemasonry  and  en- 
tente cordiale  which  conies  to  people  who 
have  lived  surrounded  l)y  the  same  books  and 
works  of  art  with  which  they  have  familiar- 
ised themselves,  until  taste,  which  is  at  the 
base  of  even  social  conduct,  becomes  for 
them  essentially  the  same  in  quality  and  re- 
finement. They  spoke  the  same  intellectual 
dialect  and  did  not  require  explanation  of 
terms  used  or  references  made,  which  con- 
veyed a  whole  world  of  preliminary  mean- 

li3 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

inii',  on  the  o:round  of  which  new  thino-s  men- 
tioned  or  views  })ut  forward  were  readily 
intelligible. 

He  felt  the  acquaintanceship  growing  in 
familiarity,  not  without  gratified  surprise, 
when  he  found  that  they  were  conversant 
with  English  politics  and  movements  for 
social  reform,  which  they  folloAved  with  deep 
interest.  To  ex})lain  this  Mrs.  Morton  told 
him  that  their  2:randfather  had  been  an 
Englishman,  and  they  had  always  continued 
certain  English  traditions  in  their  family  in 
America,  their  father,  for  instance,  always 
takino;  in  the  London  Timen.  The  work  of 
certain  institutions  in  the  poor  (juarters  of 
their  own  city,  in  which  they  were  all  three 
actively  engaged,  was  in  part  modelled  upon 
similar  oroanisations  in  the  cast  end  of  Lon- 
don,  of  the  advance  of  which  they  kept  them- 
selves informed.  But  a  dash  of  llattered 
vanity  was  added  to  his  gratified   surprise, 

when  he  found  that  they  were  familiar  with 

144 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 


his  name  and  his  political  activity,  and  were 
in  complete  synii)athy  with  the  direction  of 
his  work. 

The  reserve  of  the  two  sisters  had  com- 
pletely vanished  by  this  time,  and  had  given 
way  to  a  free  and  happy  exchange  of  ideas  ; 
while  his  own  friend  Margaret  manifested 
an  additional  pleasure  by  looks  at  her  sisters 
which  evidently  implied  a  greater  degree  of 
jiroprietorship  in  their  new  friend,  and  a 
touch  of  pride  in  the  effect  he  was  producing 
upon  her  sisters,  as  if  she  were  worthy  of 
praise  for  the  discrimination  she  had  shown. 

Thus  it  was  that  their  tea-party  was  a  very 
pleasant  one,  and  that  they  spoke  and  acted 
like  old  friends.  They  were  all  sorry  when 
it  was  time  to  break  up,  and,  having  been 
completely  occupied  with  each  other,  it  was 
only  in  the  moment  of  parting  that  they 
could  direct  their  attention  to  the  wonderful 
view  at  their  feet.  The  sun  was  setting  at 
their  back  and  sent  its  clear  golden  rays  with 

145 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

a  dash  of  scarlet  and  pink  over  the  tops  of 
the  pine  forests,  and  sweeping  up  a  green 
sheen  from  the  trees,  lit  up  the  vast  ex- 
panse of  plain  and  the  houses  of  Homburg. 

It  was  a  similar  view  to  the  one  the  two 
friends  had  gazed  at  by  the  spring ;  but  it 
was  vaster,  less  harmonious,  more  grossly 
panoramic.  It  had  lost  the  familiarity  of 
detail  which  gave  a  homelike,  sweet  touch 
in  its  proximity  to  the  view  below.  The 
light  was  also  more  fiery,  almost  theatrical ; 
its  showy  brilliance  seemed  sophisticated. 

Both  Margaret  and  Campbell  felt  this ; 
and  as  they  gazed,  their  eyes  were  blind  to 
the  actual  scene  before  them,  and  the  vision 
of  the  previous  view,  with  the  whole  sweet- 
ness of  the  mood  which  it  had  evoked,  stole 
over  them.  They  were  both  confident  that 
thev  had  the  same  thoughts,  and  at  last  he 
said,  in  a  mere  whisper,  "  The  other  was 
lovelier."     And  as  he  turned  to  her  and  her 

eyes  met  his,  a  blush  spread  over  her  face. 

146 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

And  then  they  all  four  coasted  down  the 
hill.  Margaret  wished  to  coast  down  the 
steep  straight  road ;  but  the  sisters  remon- 
strated, and  it  required  Campbell  to  contirnj 
them  in  their  fears  that  it  might  he  danger- 
ous. So  they  returned  by  the  same  way 
throuoh  the  woods  and  the  long  avenue. 
The  delight  of  their  rapid  spinning  through 
the  wind  without  any  effort  gave  them  a 
sense  of  joyousness  which  nobody  knows 
who  has  not  coasted  on  bicycle  or  toboggan 
or  has  not  galloped  across  country  on  a 
good  horse.  His  machine  being  the  heaviest 
of  the  four,  he  had  occasionally  to  put 
on  the  brake  in  order  not  to  advance  far 
ahead  of  his  companions.  He  would  then 
allow  them  to  pass  him  and  would  enjoy 
the  sight  of  the  three  figures  rushing  in 
front  of  him  with  their  thin  blouses  rustling 
in  the  wind. 

As  it  was  late,  and  he  had  an  engagement 

for   dinner,   they  urged   him  not   to   accom- 

147 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

pany  them  home  ;  and  so  they  left  him  at  the 
door  of  his  k)dgings,  with  liright  nods  and 
waving  of  hands,  and  rode  on,  kviving  him 
alone  at  his  door  with  a  sense  of  being 
really  alone. 


CAMPBELL  awoke  next  morning  with 
a  peculiar  and,  to  him,   new  sensation 
of  restlessness. 

He  had  hoped  to  lind  the  sisters  at  the 
Kurhaus  for  the  uuisic  of  the  evening,  and 
had  wandered  about,  up  and  down,  peering 
for  them  among  the  crowd  of  people,  trying 
to  avoid  his  acquaintances  who  would  stop 
him  to  exchange  greetings  or  join  him  while 
walking.  He  answered  distractedly,  and 
shook  them  oft"  as  soon  as  possible.  But  he 
could  not  find  those  he  was  looking  for  with 
increasing  eagerness  and  impatience.  The 
sweet  face  of  Margaret  was  constantly  before 

his  eyes,  and  he  heard  her  voice  through  the 

148 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

music,  as  the  fairest  music  he  Iiad  listened 
to.  When  at  last  he  was  in  l)ed,  irritated  by 
the  fruitlessness  of  his  quest,  her  image,  as 
she  gazed  into  the  water  of  the  clear  pool, 
lulled  his  mind  to  peace  and  rest,  and  he 
dropped  otf  to  sleep  with  her  face  bowing 
over  his,  her  rich  hair,  like  a  deep  golden 
aureole,    framing    its    loveliness. 

But  the  sense  of  restlessness  came  upon 
him  with  increased  intensity  in  the  morning, 
when  he  started  early  for  the  wells,  and 
found  not  one  of  the  sisters  there.  He 
then  hoped  to  see  them  at  the  lawn-tennis 
o;rounds,  where  he  was  to  practise  in  a 
double  set  with  the  Countess  Tournelle, 
who,  no  longer  a  girl,  was  still  the  most 
graceful  of  lady  players.  They  played 
ao-ainst  an  Austrian,  who  was  more  than  a 
match  for  him,  and  ]Miss  Softly,  a  most 
vigourous  and  muscular  player,  who  served 
and  volleyed  like  the  strongest  of  men. 
They  were  badly  l)eaten,  and  he  advised  his 

149 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

fair  partner  to  choose  some  better  player 
than  himself  for  the  tournament,  which  was 
to  beg'in  next  day.  He  recommended  her 
to  take  a  young  Cambridge  "  half-blue  "  who 
had  come  for  the  tournament ;  he  presented 
him,  and  they  at  once  set  to  work  to  prac- 
tise. 

This  left  him  free  to  search  among  the 
motley  crowd  of  princes,  English  and  for- 
eign, of  beautiful  women  and  athletic  men 
of  all  nationalities,  seated  in  chairs  about 
the  courts  where  the  most  interestino-  o-ame 
was  being  played  within  the  grounds,  or 
chatting  and  walking  without.  But  it  was 
all  fruitless  ;  he  could  not  find  them. 

After  luncheon  he  wandered  about  in  the 
same  eager  manner,  and,  for  a  moment,  at 
the  "  Cow-house,"  he  thought  he  espied  them 
sittins:  at  one  of  the  round  tables  under  the 
trees.  But  when  he  drew  near,  he  found  to 
his  disgust  that  they  were  the  three  Jew- 
esses.      They   levelled    their    eyeglasses    at 

]50 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

him  as  he  advanced,  but  when  he  recognized 
them  he  merely  raised  his  hat  and  passed 
on,  as  if  lookino-  for  some  one  else. 

These  3^oung  ladies  had  entirely  passed 
out  of  his  mind  and  the  rano;e  of  his  interest, 
since  he  saw  that  they  were  w^ell  provided 
with  friends,  and  had,  in  fact,  a  number  of 
people  constantly  flitting  about  them.  He 
had  noticed  them  dining  at  a  table  near  that 
of  the  Prince  of  Gallia  on  the  terrace  of  the 
Kurhaus  the  previous  evening,  and  thej^ 
seemed  to  have  a  very  lively  and  attentive 
train  of  followers.  The  moment  his  sense 
of  general  moral  obligation  had  left  him,  his 
interest  in  them  had  ceased  ;  and  the  aver- 
sion which  their  manners  had  evoked  con- 
firmed his  disgust  at  their  having  gone  to 
the  l)all,  where  their  admittance  had  to  be 
virtuall}'  forced. 

He  was  reproaching  himself  for  his  stu- 
pidity in  not  having  asked  his  American 
friends  for  their  address,  when  suddenly  a 

151 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 


very  wiinple  way  to  discover  their  where- 
abouts, which  he  had  strangely  overlooked 
before,  occurred  to  him  ;  namely,  to  ex- 
amine the  KarliKte  in  which  the  addresses 
of  all  Homburg  visitors  were  ^iven.  He 
was  just  turning  up  hastily  towards  the 
hotels  to  consult  the  lists  there,  when,  this 
time,  there  was  no  doubt  as  to  their  iden- 
tity ;  for  he  saw  them  walking  towards  him 
along  the  road  which  leads  to  the  hills. 

He  almost  ran  to  meet  them,  l)ut  they 
seemed  less  responsive  than  on  the  previous 
day.  Still  he  was  pleased  to  note  a  certain 
embarrassment  in  the  face  and  manner  of 
Margaret  in  which  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
him  could  not  be  wholly  concealed. 

As  he  gave  them  an  account  of  his  vain 
search  for  them,  of  his  stupidity  in  not 
having  asked  them  for  their  address,  and 
of  his  comic  ignoring  of  the  KurliMp  which 
he  was  just  running  oil'  to  consult,  his  good 
humoui-  again  warmed  them  to  the  friendli- 


152 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

ness  of  the  previous  day,  and  they  invited 
him  to  join  them  for  tea  at  the  AViener  Cafe, 
a  short  distance  up  the  hill  in  the  woods. 

They  walked  on  together  like  old  friends. 
At  the  cafe  in  the  woods  there  were  ])ut 
few  i)eople  ;  and  when  they  had  seated  them- 
selves at  a  table  under  the  trees,  at  some 
distance  from  the  others,  they  felt  at  home 
and  chatted  on  freely.  Campl)ell  felt  thor- 
oughly happy,  and  in  this  mood  he  was 
occasionally  lirilliant  in  his  talk.  He  felt 
that  he  was  "  showino;  to  advantasfe."  Above 
all,  there  was  a  youthful  freshness  and  joy- 
ousness  in  his  mood  which  he  had  not 
experienced  for  many  years,  and  which  he 
had  thought  l)clonged  to  the  past. 

But  strange  to  say,  when,  on  returning, 
he  walked  alone  with  ^Margaret,  the  buoy- 
ancy of  spirit  and  the  elrallience  of  manner 
left  him,  and  he  became  serious,  almost  em- 
barrassed, having  to  make  an  etfort  to  find 
the    rio^ht    thino;   to    sav.      Sometimes    they 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

would  both  lapse  into  silence.  He  could  not 
talk  about  ""  things  "  or  other  people  ;  he  felt 
an  uncontrollable  impulse  to  ask  her  about 
herself  and  to  talk  about  himself.  When 
they  had  once  begun  with  confidences  as  to 
their  own  experiences  and  feelings,  the  tone 
o;rew  warm  and  familiar  and  a  delicious 
sense  of  repose  and  sweetness  came  over 
him  as  he  listened  to  her.  But  in  the  midst 
of  her  confidential  talk  he  would  notice  a 
certain  sudden  restraint,  as  if  she  thought 
it  right  to  check  herself  and  would  not 
allow  her  expansive  mood  to  take  its  own 
course. 

Mrs.  Morton  and  Ethel  had  to  do  some 
shopping,  and  so  he  walked  back  with 
^Margaret.  When  he  expi-essed  a  desire  to 
see  their  home  she  said  that  she  hoped 
he  would  call.  When  they  arrived  at  the 
door  of  their  lodg-ino-s  on  the  Promenade  he 
did  not  leave  her,  and  stood  talking  expect- 
antly, until  she  could  not  help  asking  him 

154 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

to  come  up  to  their  drawing-room  for  a  few 
minutes. 

There  was  almost  a  twinkle  of  humourous 
exultation  at  his  victory  over  her  reserve, 
when  he  said : 

"  I  should  like  nothing;  more.  Isn't  that 
your  l)alcony  ?  I  should  love  to  sit  there  and 
chat  until  your  people  return." 

The  pugnacious  spirit  was  up  in  him  and 
he  resolved  to  hght,  to  conquer  lier  reserve. 
The  more  he  felt  the  charm  of  her  personality, 
the  more  it  occasionally  pi'oduced  in  him  an 
embarrassment  amountino-  to  timiditv,  the 
more  did  he  require  the  help  of  his  com- 
bative spirit,  which,  together  with  his  hu- 
mour, he  had^nherited  from  his  Irish  mother. 
And  thus  he  felt  a  call  upon  his  determina- 
tiop  and  courage  to  bend  to  his  will  the 
resisting  power  of  the  girl,  whose  strength 
of  character  he   intuitively  divined. 

She  had  taken  oft'  her  hat,  and  now,  with 

her  rich  hair  freed   from  the  coverino;  wliich 

i:.5 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

makes  faces  more  commonplace,  she  seemed 
to  him  a  new  person,  wholly  herself  and 
wholly  bewitching  in  her  personality.  As 
she  moved  about  the  room,  to  put  thinofs  in 
their  proper  place,  he  followed  her  every 
movement  with  eyes  fascinated.  There  was 
a  orace,  a  sedate  intimacv  in  her  movements 
which  made  him  feel  at  home,  or  long  to  l)e 
so.  And  when,  l)efore  they  went  out  on  the 
balcony,  she  stood  for  a  moment  before  him, 
her  hands  raised  to  the  back  of  her  head  to 
arrange  the  hair-pins,  he  had  to  clutch  his 
chair  tightly  not  to  rush  up  and  clasp  her  in 
his  arms. 

While  sitting  on  the  balcony  overlooking 
the  Promenade,  along  which  k  gay  throng- 
was  constantly  passing,  he  began  by  telling 
her  of  some  of  his  friends  at  Homburg 
whom  he  felt  sure  she  would  like,  and 
l)eo;o:ed  her  to  ioin  him  with  her  sisters  at 
luncheon   next  day,   and  then  to  go  to  the 

lawn-tennis    courts.       She    said    that    they 

156 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

were  only  waiting  from  day  to  day  to  hear 
from  their  rehitions,  who  were  at  Bayreiith, 
and  Avhom  they  were  to  join  on  their  way 
back  to  England  ;  that,  therefore,  it  wa.s  no 
use  making  new  acquaintances ;  that,  in 
fact,  they  liked  to  be  quiet  and  l)y  them- 
selves. Xor  could  they  go  out  that  even- 
ing and  join  him  at  the  music  before  the 
Kursaal,  as  he  begged  her  to  do.  The  most 
he  could  o])tain  was  her  promise  to  play  a 
game  of  lawn  tennis  with  him  the  next  morn- 
ing punctually  al  ten,  before  most  of  the 
people    arrived. 

^Sleanwliile  her  sisters  returned  and  he  felt 
that  he  ouoht  to  o'o,  as  the  dinner  hour 
was  approaching.  So  he  took  his  leave, 
but  the  thoujrht  of  her  cluno;  to  him.  A 
fascinution,  absorbinu*  all  his  thoushts  and 
feelings,  was  upon  him  which  no  one  had 
ever  before  exercised  over  him. 

He  left  his  friends,  as  soon  as  he  could 
do     it    with    propriety    after    dinner,     and 

157 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

wandered  off  to  the  music,  seeking  a  chair 
which  was  hidden  from  general  view.  He 
there  dreamed  of  her.  But  when  the  band 
played  a  waltz  (it  was  that  masterpiece  of 
waltz-music,  Strauss's  "  Wiener  Blut ")  the 
melting  sentiment  of  it,  the  joyous  pathos, 
the  insinuating  naivete,  the  heart-stirring 
rhythm  of  its  plaintive  and  still  gladsome 
melody,  —  all  this  was  too  much  for  him  ;  and 
he  rushed  home  to  dream  in  his  room  with- 
out a  light. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  to  himself,  pacing  his  room, 
"I  am  in  love.  That  is  the  plain  fact.  As 
much  in  love  as  any  school-boy  ever  was, 
and  I  feel  as  helpless  as  he  does."  And  he 
thought  of  a  paraphrase  of  Heine's  "  £!s  ist 
eine  alte  Geschichte  "  Avhich  he  once  addressed 
to  a  friend  of  advanced  years  whom  he  found 
smitten  in  the  same  way  : 

"  It  is  an  old,  old  story, 

Yet  always  seems  so  new  ; 
And  wise  and  grey  and  hoary, 

We're  boys  when  love  comes  true." 
158 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 


VI 

HE  playecl  tennis  with  her  the  next 
mornino:,  and  was  astonished  to  find 
what  an  excellent  player  she  was.  Graceful, 
lithe,  and  strong,  rapid  in  her  movements, 
she  had  a  coolness  of  judgment  and  a  control 
of  her  temper  which  made  her  score  more 
than  many  a  more  showy  player.  He  begged 
her  to  be  his  partner  in  a  double  in  the 
mixed  handicaps  at  the  tournament ;  but 
she  refused  with  firmness. 

Nor  could  he  shake  her  in  her  refusal  to 
persuade  her  sisters  to  join  him  at  luncheon 
and  dinner  parties  at  the  various  hotels  and 
to  be  present  next  day  at  the  tournament. 
He  appealed  to  the  artistic  sense,  so  highly 
developed  in  her,  when  he  gave  a  picture  of 
the  o;atherino;s  at  the  tournament. 

"  What  can  be  lovelier  in  its  way,"  he  said, 

"  than  the  charming  grounds,  enclosed  with 

fine  trees  ;  little  open  vistas  over  meadows, 

159 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

like  those  of  an  English  park ;  then  the 
players  in  white,  reminding  one  almost  of 
ancient  Greek  athletes,  and  the  mass  of 
varied  colour  in  the  ladies'  costumes  grouped 
round  the  court  of  greatest  interest,  the 
red  jackets  of  the  boys  dotted  about,  — 
surely,  apart  from  the  variegated  humanity, 
which  need  not  interest  you  in  itself,  the 
scene  is  one  any  appreciative  eye  like  yours 
would  enjoy." 

But  it  was  of  no  avail.  Though  he  saw  a 
great  deal  of  the  three  ladies,  and  had  long, 
delightful  walks  with  Margaret,  he  could 
not  l)ring  them  to  join  in  his  social  circle  or 
to  mix  with  others.  This  desire  for  isola- 
tion and  shyness  seemed  so  strong  that  he 
began  to  wonder  whether  it  did  not  point  to 
morbid  sensitiveness,  based  upon  the  con- 
sciousness of  some  vulnerable  i)oint  in  their 
antecedents.  He  had  made  observations  of 
this  kind  in  people  before.  Perhaps  there 
was  some  scandal  in  the  matrimonial  rela- 

160 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

tion  of  their  parents,  perhaps  some  disgrace- 
ful business  failure  of  the  father. 

Among  his  numerous  American  friends  at 
Homburg  he  could  have  gained  information. 
But  he  resented  the  idea  of  making  an3i;hing 
approaching  inquiry,  in  however  covert  and 
indirect  a  manner,  as  an  act  of  disloyalty,  a 
want  of  chivalry  towards  his  noble  and 
trusting  friends.  He  carefully  avoided  men- 
tioning them  to  anybody  ;  and  his  friends, 
including  the  Hewsons,  with  rare  tact  on 
their  part,  did  not  refer  to  his  new  intimacy, 
though  they  must  have  seen  him  in  the  com- 
pany of  these  ladies  on  several  occasions, 
and  though  he  neglected  his  older  accjuaint- 
ances  for  them. 

But  he  resolved  to  touch  upon  this  marked 
feature  in  their  faultless  demeanour  in  a 
direct  and  straightforward,  though  a  general 
and  impersonal  manner. 

And  so,  one  day,  taking  a  long  walk  with 
Margaret,  with  whom  he  had  discussed  many 

IGl 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

interesting  topics  fully,  while  sitting  on  a 
bench  in  the  woods,  and  resting,  he  sud- 
denly seized  the  opportunity  oftered  by  their 
discussion  of  the  happiest  condition  of  life 
to  say  : 

"  Do  you  know  what  I  think  one  of  the 
most  irrational  and  mischievous  causes  of 
misery  to  one's  self  and  of  discomfort  to 
others?" 

She  looked  up  inquiringly,  and  he  con- 
tinued : 

"  Sensitiveness.  It  has  done  less  oood 
and  more  harm  than  any  other  human  attri- 
bute Avith  a  name  that  has  a  ring  of  virtue 
in  its  sound.  Its  implication  of  a  refined 
organisation  as  opposed  to  coarseness  or 
bluntness  of  nervous  fibre,  its  kinship  to 
that  petty  Old  World  sensilnlity,  have  de- 
ceived people  ruled  or  enslaved  by  it  into 
the  belief  that  they  are  possessed  of  a  virtue. 
As  a  matter  of  fact  they  are  really  sufFerii;g 

from    a   moral    weakness    which    ultimately 

162 


A    HO M BURG    STORY 

mioht  lead  to  a  chronic  mental  disease,  iin- 
dermining  the  whole  of  their  happy  inter- 
course with  others,  and  often  their  own 
sanity  of  mind." 

She  started  and  looked  at  him,  liiit  he 
did  not  change  a  muscle  of  his  face  as  he  re- 
ceived her  questioning  look.  She  frowned 
with  the  exertion  of  framino-  her  thoughts 
and  then  said : 

"Are  not  sensiltility  and  sensitiveness 
more  closely  allied  and  more  difficidt  to  dis- 
tinguish than  you  seem  to  admit  ?  Does 
not  the  absence  of  sensitiveness  to  the 
actions  of  people  about  us  argue  indifference 
to  them,  and  a  carelessness  of  our  own 
moral  cleanliness,  almost  of  the  nature  of 
physical  slovenliness  with  regard  to  our 
personal  a})pearancc  ?  I  shoidd  not  be 
pleased  to  think  that  one  I  loved,  or  even 
liked,  was  insensible  to  the  difference  be- 
tween attention  and  regard  and  indifference 


and  neglect." 


163 


TFIE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

"Yes,  you  are  right  there."  And  he 
could  not  help  looking  into  her  face  and 
her  pensive  eyes  with  a  thrill  of  admiration, 
while  her  clear  low  voice  had  a  tremour  of 
earnestness  in  it  as  she  spoke.  "  I  agree  to 
a  certain  amount  of  sensitiveness  with  re- 
gard to  the  people  we  like  and  respect ;  but 
that  does  not  apply  to  indifferent  people, 
the  man  whom  we  do  not  know  well  or  care 
to  know  better.  Sensitiveness  towards  the 
people  we  know  well  and  love  is  a  mark  of 
appreciation  and  esteem  paid  to  them ; 
towards  people  we  do  not  know  well  or  love 
is  a  mark  of  self-depreciation." 

"  I  admire  your  epigram ;  Init  I  do  not 
agree  with  it  wholly,"  she  said.  "  If  I 
thought  that  a  person  I  loved  and  admired 
could  not  wound  me  I  should  either  doubt 
my  affection  and  regard  for  him  or  my  own 
delicacy  of  perception  and  self-respect.  Nor 
can  it  be  good  to  encourage  too  nuich  in 
those  we  love  the  sense  of  absolute  security 

164 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

as  to  the  effects  of  their  words  and  actions, 
which  leads  to  the  sense  of  irresponsibility, 
to  utter  regardlessness,  and,  as  the  common- 
place has  it,  tinally  to  contempt." 

"  Well,  I  will  concede  so  much  to  you, 
and  I  agree  with  you  up  to  a  certain  point. 
Pull  them  up  sharp,  scold  thorn  if  you  will, 
repel  :iny  licentious  inroad  upon  the  domain 
of  your  dignity  or  just  rights  !  But  do  not 
carry  away  a  wound  to  your  own  self-esteem, 
which  it  is  hard  to  heal,  and  which  implies 
want  of  foith  in  the  wholeness  of  their  rela- 
tion to  you,  their  general  esteem,  fondness, 
or  love.  Trust  and  faith  are,  after  all,  the 
very  corner-stones  of  all  intimate  human  re- 
lations ;  and  sensitiveness,  like  jealousy,  — 
in  those  cases,  —  implies  fundamental  lack  of 
faith  in  others  as  well  as  in  one's  self." 

''  I  also  must  give  in  to  you,"  she  said,  as 
a  softer  expression  stole  over  her  face  and  a 
look  of  mixed  o-ratitude  and  admiration  met 
Campljell  as  he  gazed  straight  into  her  eyes. 

1C5 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

"  Still  you  cannot  rob  me  of  the  great 
worship  I  have  of  one  human  virtue,  self- 
respect,  —  pride  in  the  best  and  noblest  sense 
of  the  word,  —  which  causes  us  to  raise  our 
heads  the  higher,  the  more  the  world  is 
ao;ainst  us  and  tries  to  force  us  to  bend  our 
necks.  I  w^orship  this  strength  ;  and  a  man 
who  was  not  a  fighter,  who  did  not  stand 
firml}^  on  his  feet,  —  against  the  whole  w^orld, 
if  need  be, — I  could  never  respect  or  ad- 
mire." 

While  she  said  this  she  had  unconsciously 
drawn  herself  up  straight  as  she  sat  there, 
and  looked  straight  Ijefore  her  with  a  fixed 
and  defiant  brilliancy  in  her  eyes  —  she  w^as 
the  amazon,  not  the  nymph. 

"  Ah,  but  make  sure  that  he  is  a  true 
fio^hter  and  not  a  braggadocio  or  a  Don 
Quixote." 

"  I    love    Don    Quixote,"    she    threw   in. 

"  Don't  you    know  that    wonderful    passage 

in  Heine's  preface  to  a   German  translation 

166 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

of  Cervantes  in  which  he  breaks  a  lance  for 
Don  Quixote?" 

"  I  do.  It  is  beautiful.  Well,  love  Don 
Quixote  with  pity ;  but  don't  admire  him. 
Admiration  must  be  complete,  for  the  thing 
fought  for  as  well  as  the  manner  of  fiohtino-, 
—  or  rather  for  the  reason,  the  selection  of 
the  cause,  as  well  as  the  courage  and  indomi- 
table perseverance  with  which  the  cause  is 
pursued.  Or  else  you  will  worship  fanatics 
and  madmen  as  much  as  true  heroes." 

"  They  are  all  better  than  cowards,  slaves, 
toadies,  and  snobs,"  she  said  passionately. 

"So  they  are,"  he  continued  calmly  and 
firmly,  "  but  those  are  not  the  alternatives 
between  which  to  choose.  If  you  must 
fight,  fight ;  but  do  not  see  enemies  where 
there  are  none,  or  mere  windmills.  Do  not 
waste  the  sacred  flame  of  beneficent  wrath 
upon  unworthy  objects  or  in  self-torture, 
and  fritter  away  the  passionate  forces  that 

make    for    heroism    upon    petty    sentiments 

167 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

that  become  vulgar  in  their  pettiness,  until 
your  soul  and  all  that  is  lovable  in  it  is 
eaten  away  in  impotent  and  sterile  vanity 
and  disappointment.  Parry  and  thrust  home, 
but  don't  mouth  or  o-rimace  about  fiohtinir 
before  you  fight,  or  try  to  frighten  3'our 
enemy  by  passes  au  mur,  before  the  mirror 
of  your  wounded  vanities." 

His  calmness  gave  way  to  a  stern  resent- 
ment in  his  voice. 

"  I  know  wdiat  I  am  talking  about.  I 
have  felt  the  danger  myself —  who  has  not?  " 
he  continued  more  softly.  "  I  have  seen  a 
friend  of  mine  ruined  in  character  and  effi- 
cienc}^  by  this  curse  of  sensitiveness." 

"How  w^as  that?"  she  asked,  and  her 
voice  was  less  firm. 

"He  was  a  splendid  fellow,  powerful  and 
refined,  with  uncommon  qualities  of  heart 
and  mind.  But  ho  had  the  misfortune  I0  be 
sent  to  a  great  public  school  in  the  very  town 

in  which  his   father  was  a  petty  tradesman 

IG8 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

and  dissenting  minister.  He  was  distin- 
guished and  popular  at  college,  and,  in  spite 
of  all  the  delicate  regard  and  encouragement 
which  his  friends  (and  I  was  his  greatest 
friend)  could  give  him,  the  morbid  effect  of 
the  cruel  bullying  he  experienced  from  the 
(unconsciously)  brutal  boys  at  school,  the 
confirmed  habit  of  ascril)ing  all  failures  or 
accidental  slights  to  his  'tradesman  and  dis- 
sentino- '  orioin,  produced  a  sensitiveness,  a 
suspiciousness,  and,  finally,  a  1)itterness  in 
him  which  counteracted  his  native  amiability, 
made  him  not  only  a  difficult,  l)ut,  at  last, 
an  impossible  person  to  live  with.  He  quar- 
relled continually,  instead  o^  JigJiting  when 
there  was  cause  ;  put  the  world  against  him 
by  his  own  perversity ;  at  last  warped  his 
mind  into  eccentricity  ;  and  is  a  lonely,  petty 
schoolmaster  now.  instead  of  a  leader  of 
men,  as  he  was   l)()rn  to  be." 

"  Why  ascribe  the  fault  to  him,"  she  said 
eao-erlv,  "  when  vou  mentioned  the  cause  in 

169 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

the  brutal  class  prejudice  you  referred  to, 
and  the  treatment  he  experienced  in  his 
early  childhood,  which,  no  dou])t,  was  occa- 
sionally renewed  in  later  h'fe?  Why  are 
you  not  angry  with  the  boys  at  school  who 
murdered  his  nascent  powers,  the  schools  and 
institutions  which  allow  or  encourage  this  by 
the  very  character  of  their  organisation,  the 
society  which  breeds  such  moral  cankers  ?  " 

She  uttered  these  words  with  a  deep 
indignation,  which  almost  appeared  to  l)e 
directed  aoainst  him.  When  he  did  not 
answer  at  once,  she  looked  round  at  him, 
and  a  blush  of  embarrassment  came  over 
her  face,  and  she  said  softly : 

""  Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon  for  talking  in 
that  tone  to  you.  I  know  yow  are  opposed 
to  these  abuses,  and  are  in  no  way  in  sym- 
pathy with  them.  I  know  your  life-work 
is  directed  towards  the  checking  of  these 
muddy  courses  at  the  very  fountain-head. 
Forgive  me  my  impetuosity." 

170 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

"  I  certainly  forgive  you  ;  there  is  nothing 
to  forgive.  I  like  you  for  the  power  of  feel- 
ing strongly  on  what  is  worth  strong  feeling. 
But  3^ou  have  just  paid  nie  the  compliment 
to  say  that  I  was  fighting  this  enemy  of 
humanity  and  of  the  spirit  of  good  at  his 
strongholds.  That  is  the  main  point. 
Listen  to  me  : 

"I  reproach  my  friend  with  not  having 
realised  the  wholeness  of  life,  not  having 
distinguished  what  is  important  and  what 
is  not.  He  made  his  OAvn  self-respect,  or 
rather,  vanity,  of  gi;eater  importance  than 
all  the  great  qualities,  and,  in  consequence, 
duties  and  destinies,  which  ought  to  have 
shaped  his  life.  He  failed  to  see  the  Pro- 
porfion  of  Life,  which  is  the  fundamental 
principle  of  right  living.  Nearly  all  faults 
and  all  disasters,  personal,  domestic,  and 
public,  come  from  this  mistaken  vision. 
Stand  on  the  highest  point  of  your  life,  of 

your  self,  and  view  things  about  you  with- 

171 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

out  blinkers  and  without  distorting  glasses 
(convex  or  concave)  of  momentary  and 
local  prejudices,  or  narrow  selfish  desires, 
and  you  will  then  appreciate  the  proportion 
of  life.  What  is  a  petty  squabble  of  the 
day,  of  a  country,  town,  or  district,  the  pro- 
vincial prejudice  of  a  set  or  class,  to  him 
whose  eyes  encompass  the  world  and  its 
past  as  well  as  its  future  ?  What  is  a  pass- 
ing disappointment  of  a  set  in  a  narrow 
community  to  us  to-day,  when  we  put  into 
the  scale  the  Armenian  massacres  of  which 
you  read  this  morning,  in  which  men,  women, 
and  children  are  butchered,  and  a  fine  race  is 
being  exterminated ;  what  are  these  social 
questions,  when  compared  to  the  great 
economical  questions,  the  Eastern,  the  Far 
East,  the  African  question,  the  solution  or 
comi^lication  of  which  will  move  the  whole 
civilised  world  one  way  or  the  other  for 
centuries?  And  my  friend  was  made  to 
work    at    these    oreat    movements,  to  afiect 

172 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 


them ;  his  life  had  bigness  in  it ;  but  he  was 
not   strong  enough  and   big   enough  in  his 
character  to  strike   great  blows  at  fate,  in- 
stead of  whining  at  an  occasional  pin-prick. 
With    all    his    faculty    of    concentration    of 
thought  in  his  work,  he  had  not  the  power 
of  io-norino-  that   which  was    unessential  to 
his  life  and  was  unworthy  of  his  attention, 
all  because  of  his  i)etty  vanity,  —  or  pride 
and  sensitiveness  as  you  would  call  it.     If 
the    highest    powder  of  intellect  is  often   to 
remember  and  to  concentrate  attention  the 
highest  development  of  will  and  character  is 
sometimes  to  ignore  and  to  forget." 

"But,"  she  asked,  "how  about  people 
who  are  not  big,  whose  powers  and  whose 
life  are  not  cast  in  the  great  mould  you 
attribute  to  your  friend?  How  are  they  to 
deal  with  those  general  stings,  the  origin  ol" 
which  they  can  hardly  fix,  which  remain 
stings  and  smart,  though  they  do  not  kill  ?  " 

"They  are    to  assign    to    them  their  due 

173 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

proportion,"    he    answered    with    emphasis, 

"  to  deal  ^yith.  them  as  little  stings,  lightly, 

with  the  levity  w^hich  behoves  them.     You 

cannot  adjust  the  surface  life  of  society  on 

the  principles  of  science,  or  even  of  ethics. 

Because  such  social  intercourse,  the  essence 

and  purpose  of  which  lies  in  the  intercourse 

itself,  and  not  in  some  ulterior  common  aim 

to  be  achieved  in  the  sphere  of  utility,  truth, 

or  ofoodness, — because  such  intercourse  is 

artistic    in    its    nature,    neither    theoretical, 

practical,  nor  ethical.     It  must  therefore  be 

light  and   playful   in   its  action,  must  have 

its  qualities  in  the  grace  and    spontaneous 

attractiveness     of    personalities,    and    their 

words  and  deeds.     As  soon  as  it  loses  this 

spontaneity,  like  the  work  of  the  artist,  it 

loses  its  social   effectiveness.       Appeals    to 

truth,  goodness,  justice,  or  expediency  are 

of   no    avail  —  they    are,   on    the    contrary, 

destructive  of  social  intercourse." 

'■  I  really  do    not  quite  understand    you. 

174 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

I  am  sure  it  is  my  own  density,  or  that  I 
have  not  thought  much  on  these  subjects. 
I  always  fancied  that  our  life,  in  any  and 
every  one  of  its  phases,  could  never  be 
severed  from  its  ethical  results  and  pur- 
poses," Margaret  said,  and  a  puzzled  expres- 
sion came  over  her  face  manifesting  the 
effort  it  cost  her  to  follow  his  thoughts,  — 
which  were  evidently  new  to  her. 

"  Quite  so.  You  warn  me  opportunely 
not  to  overstate  my  case.  I  am  speaking  of 
the  art  of  living  sociably,  quite  apart  from 
the  wider  life,  includincr  the  strugo-le  for 
existence,  charity,  and  the  general  fellow- 
ship of  humanity.  Of  course,  society,  even 
in  the  lightest  aspect  of  its  activity,  has  final 
ethical  aims,  by  the  canons  of  which  Ave 
must  ultimately  test  its  right  of  existence  and 
settle  its  main  course.  A  society,  however 
pleasant  in  its  appearance  and  flow,  which  is 
fundamentally  immoral  in  its  tone,  structure, 
and  eifect  —  nay,  which  docs  not  ultimately 

175 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

tend  to  brill"'  out  the  luiuum  l)est  in  its 
members  —  is  bad,  und  ought  never  to 
appear  pleasant  to  sane  and  refined  taste. 
So  in  the  domain  of  art,  its  sister  sphere  in 
spirit,  the  immoral,  which  does  not  elevate, 
but  lowers,  ought  in  itself  to  counteract 
and  to  dissipate  the  effect  of  formal  lieauty. 
This  is  what  the  German  philosopher  Kant 
has  called  the  PrimatesJiip  of  Practical 
Reason  or  Ethics.  Let  us  all  recognise  this, 
and  ive  are  doing  so  in  the  very  topic  of  our 
own  conversation.  On  the  other  hand,  a 
social  set  which  is  directly  founded  u})on, 
and  consciously,  by  word  and  deed,  sets 
itself  the  task  of  furthering,  intellectual  self- 
improvement,  moral  elevation,  or  practical 
and  economical  discovery  and  progress,  will 
be  clumsy,  ungainly,  and  unsocial  in  its 
constitution  and  working.  So  also  a  work 
of  art  which  is  intended  directly  to  illustrate 
anatomy  or  Darwinian  heredity,  to  preach 

charity  or  self-control,  to  facilitate  comuiu- 

176 


A    HOMBUEG    STORY 

iiication  or  solve  ;i  (juestion  of  currenc- y ,  will 
fail  to  produce  any  artistic  effect.  Such 
societies  will  certainly  produce  sets  of  prigs 
and  j)edants  who  are  likely  to  bore  and  dis- 
gust each  other  without  leading  to  much 
self-improvement.  Society  is  more  con- 
cerned with  the  manner  than  with  the  sub- 
stance of  life — the  form  is  essential  to  the 
matter,  as  in  art." 

Maroaret  smiled,  while  she  said  :  "  I  am 
beginning  to  see  your  meaning.  This  ques- 
tion of  the  manner,  I  see,  is  of  the  greatest 
importance  in  social  intercourse." 

"  Not  only  manner,  but  manners^  which 
are,  as  regards  social  intercourse,  the  canons 
of  proportion  and  harmony  in  taste,  as  the 
dictates  of  virtue  and  righteousness  are  in 
our  moral  life.  Ars  est  celare  artem  applies 
to  the  art  of  living  pleasantly  together  as  it 
does  to  a  picture,  a  poem,  or  a  song.  It 
is    the  intentionality,  the  interested  motive 

which  destroys  the  grace  and  attractiveness 

177 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

of  action  and  manners,  makes  mechanical 
what  ought  to  be  spontaneous  and  organic, 
and  repels  and  disgusts  us.'' 

"  Oh,  you  are  right  there,  I  see  that," 
]\Iargaret  said,  with  a  ring  of  pleased  under- 
standing in  her  voice,  "  I  have  so  often  felt 
that." 

Campbell,  whose  mode  of  expression  had 
become  labored,  now  seemed  to  breathe 
more  freely,  as  if  relieved  by  overcoming 
an  arduous  task,  and  he  continued  more 
rapidly  and  fluently. 

"  Take  the  question  we  are  discussing, 
—  injustice  which  wounds  our  pride  and 
sensitiveness  in  the  lightly  social  sphere,  — 
surely  it  would  not  be  an  effective  method  of 
convincing  the  social  culprits  to  point  out 
that  the  object  of  their  slight  was  the  wor- 
thiest person  morally,  the  most  superior  per- 
son intellectually,  and  the  most  successful  and 
efficient  person  in  practical  life  !  They  might 
answer  simply  :  '  That  this  may  all  be  very 

178 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

true  ;  but  that  his  boots  creaked  insuflerably , 
that  his  talk  was  heavy  and  tedious,  and 
his  temper  uncertain  and  trying.'  And  if 
the  wounded  man  himself  resents  injustice 
manifestly  —  if  his  true  pride  and  self-esteem 
are  so  low  as  to  cast  off  conventional  armour 
and  stand  naked  before  his  scoffers  —  if  he 
deepens  his  own  scratch  into  a  wound,  and 
makes  the  offence  so  heavy  that  it  is  entirely 
removed  out  of  the  society  sphere  into  the 
domain  of  eternal  morality  and  Christian 
charity,  then  he  may  evoke  pity  and  stir  up 
self-reproach  in  the  hearts  of  the  offenders, 
—  neither  of  which  attitudes  of  mind  are 
conducive  to  amenable  and  pleasant  social 
intercourse  in  a  salon  or  a  ball-room." 

"  Oh,  you  are  indeed  right,"  Margaret 
said,  with  a  tone  of  serious  conviction, 

"  You  see,"  Campbell  continued  eagerly, 
"  self-assertion  makes  recognition  from  others 
most  difficult.  The  man  who  asserts  his  own 
virtue,  the  debt  of  gratitude  which  we  owe 

179 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

him,  the  man  with  a  grievance,  —  they  all 
incite  our  op})osition,  even  if  what  they 
clami  be  true.  '  Just  because  you  claim  it, 
you  shall  not  have  it,'  we  seem  to  say.  I 
have  often  wondered  why  this  should  be  the 
case,  and  why,  when  I  have  heard  a  person 
lay  claim  to  a  virtue  or  a  right  which  he 
really  possessed,  or  to  a  success  achieved, 
even  though  it  be  true,  I  have  often  felt  an 
uncomfortable  distaste,  approaching  disgust. 
'  The  facts  are  true,  and  being  true,  why 
should  he  not  know  it,  and  knowing  it,  w^hy 
should  he  humbug  and  not  say  it?  '  I  have 
asked  myself.  And  all  the  same  my  revul- 
sion exists." 

"  Oh,  I  have  so  often  felt  that  in  life,  and 
in  literature,  especially  with  authors  like 
Rousseau.  Can  you  explain  why  this  should 
be  so?  "  Margaret  asked. 

"  Well,   apart    from    our    native   sense  of 

opposition  and  perversity,  which  makes  us 

resent  security  and  cocksureness,  and  may 

180 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

not  be  quite  justifiable,  there  is  a  reasonable 
orround  for  our  mistrust.     A  thino-  once  said 
or  written  becomes  fixed,  and,  as  it   were, 
isolated  from  all  the  groundwork  of  its  sur- 
roundino-    justifications    and    qualifications ; 
it  becomes  more  absolute,  more  gross,  and 
loses    its   redeemino-    proportion.     Further- 
more, as  regards    the   speaker,    the  altered 
nature  of  the  thing  once  said  must  fix  and 
increase  his  self-consciousness,  and  in  so  far 
counteract  the  spontaneity  of  his  manner  to 
us,    which  the   artistic   character    of    social 
intercourse  demands.     We  are  then  inclined 
to  suspect  interested  and  intentional  motives 
in  what  he  says  and  does  —  he  is  no  longer 
graceful.     It  is  the  curse  of  injustice  that, 
besides  the  wrong  done  us,  we  suffer  a  more 
lasting  injury  in  that  we  become  conscious 
of  our   own   rights    and    virtues,    and    then 
assert  them." 

"  I  now  see   what   vou  mean   1>v   dealing 
liuhtlv  with  the   l)lows   struck   at   our   own 

181 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

pride  and  sensitiveness,"  Margaret  said. 
"  But  how  would  you  deal  lightly  with  an 
atfront  offered  you  by  implication  which  you 
could  not  io;nore  ?  " 

"  AVell,  let  me  give  you  an  instance  from 
my  own  experience  as  an  illustration.  I 
had  a  great  friend,  alas,  now  dead,  Avho  was 
literally  the  noblest  man,  with  the  largest 
and  warmest  heart  that  I  have  ever  met 
or  ever  expect  to  meet.  If  I  except  my 
father  and  mother,  I  owe  to  him  more  than 
to  any  human  being.  His  justice,  strength, 
and  purity,  as  well  as  his  sympathy  and 
charity,  were  unfailing  and  all  encompassing. 
Though  he  was  deeply  learned  in  his  own 
line  as  few  men  of  our  century  ar(;,  he  was 
still  wide-minded  and  polished  in  his  tastes 
and  manners.  And  pervading  all  his  kind- 
liness and  searching  delicacy  was  a  strong 
sense  of  hununir  which  gave  him,  to  an 
exceptional  degree,  that  feeling  of  life-pro- 
portion which  he  kept  duly  balanced  in  him- 

1M2 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

self  and  in  his  varied  surroundings.  He 
was  a  learned  man  by  profession,  and  was  a 
Fellow  of  one  of  our  o-reat  colleo:es. 

"  One  day,  while  staying  at  a  country 
house,  an  octogenarian  of  distinction,  a 
fellow  guest,  who  had  l)een  at  the  same  uni- 
versity years  before  my  friend,  not  knowing 
the  college  to  which  he  lielonged  (which  was 
St.  Paul's),  said  to  him  across  the  dinner 
table  : 

"  'You  come  from  Oxbridge,  sir.  Do  you 
not  think  the  Fellows  of  St.  Paul's  the 
greatest  blackiiuards  on  the  face  of  the 
earth?  ' 

"  There  was  an  uncomfortable  pause,  and 
then  my  friend  said  quite  pleasantly,  but 
seriously,  to  the  old  o-entleman  : 

"  '  I  see  what  you  mean,  sir.' 

"  And  he  did  see  what  he  meant.  In 
the  days  when  the  old  gentleman  was  at 
Oxbridge  the  Fellows  of  St.  Paul's  w^ere,  in 
truth,  a  set  of  idle,  hard-drinking,  low-sport- 


THE    SUEFACE    OF    THINGS 

ing,  and  generally  low-lived  people.  Since 
the  days  of  my  friend,  however,  things  had 
completely  changed;  until  it  had  become 
the  college  in  that  university  recognised  as 
possessing  the  most  distinguished  and  most 
refined  body  of  Fellows.  The  remark  of 
the  old  gentleman  had,  therefore,  truth  from 
his  point  of  view.  It  was  not  meant  as  a 
personal  insult  to  my  friend,  as  his  college 
was  not  known.  Finallv,  mv  friend  did  not 
wish  to  make  the  old  man  uncomfortable 
and  miserable  for  the  rest  of  the  evenins; ; 
nor  had  he  the  right  to  mar  the  pleasant  tone 
of  the  party  for  his  host  and  the  rest  of  the 
company.  On  the  other  hand,  he  could  not 
acquiesce  in  the  inaccurate  statement.  His 
phrase  hit  the  nail  on  the  head  ;  and  I  have 
often  adopted  it  myself  under  similar  circum- 
stances." 

"It  is  indeed  most  apt,"  Margaret  said, 
with  amusement  in  her  voice. 

"  People  do  not  wish  to  offend  us,"  Camp- 

184 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

1)oll    continued    with    Avarmth.     "There  are 

few  who  have  such  bad  taste  ;  for  we  have  a 

right    to    consider    ourselves    nice    enough. 

AVell-bred  people   manage  not  to  see  much 

of  us,  if  their  dislike  amounts  to  a  desire  to 

insult    us.     These   '  insults  by   implication  ' 

ought  not  to  be  taken  seriously.     How  often 

have  you  heard  remarks  like  :   '  Englishmen 

are  coarse  in  moral   iiljre,  blunt  and  seltish 

in    manner,   a  nation   of  shop-keepers :    the 

Scotch    are    clannish,  dry  in  spirit,  greedy 

and  pushing ;  the  French  are  untruthful  and 

sensual ;     the     Germans     unchivalrous     and 

petty  :  the  Italians   slipshod  in  character,  a 

nation  of  adventurers  :  and  the  Americans 

sharp    and    common.'     If    remarks    of    this 

kind,  or  put  in  a  more  refined  and  moderate 

manner,  are  expressed  when  any  member  of 

such  a  nation  is  present,  need  he   resent  it 

or  feel  hurt  in  his  })ride?     It  could  not  have 

been  meant  for  him  except  by  people  whose 

coarse  rudeness  puts  them  beyond  the  pale 

185 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

of  any  further  intercourse.  All  we  need 
realise  is,  that  these  things  are  said  by  peo- 
ple who  make  hasty  generalisations  on  an 
insufficient  basis,  or  are  fond  of  strong  lan- 
guage and  over-statements.  And  we  need 
simply  think  or  say  :  ''  I  see  what  yon  mean  ! ' 
Very  often  there  is  considerable  justification 
for  what  they  say,  and  the  national  failings 
which  even  the  finest  nation  may  possess, 
the  results  of  their  past  history  and  present 
conditions  of  life,  may  account  for  the  gen- 
eralisation, though  it  may  not  justify  the 
exaggerated  form  of  expression.  And  why 
need  we  be  so  childish  as  to  be  oflfended  by 
the  recognition  of  our  nation's  weaknesses, 
especially  when  no  insult  is  meant  to  us  ; 
and  as  they  are  ignorant  of  our  nationality 
it  is  evident  that  they  do  not  attriluite  these 
feelings  to  us  ?  " 

"  T  o-rant  you  that  all  that  may  be  taken 
lightly,"    Margaret    said :  "  they    are  trivial 

offences  which  do  not  touch  the  main  springs 

186 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

of  life  ;  they  can  easily  l)e  ignored  or  met 
lightly.  But  when  your  poor  friend,  the  son 
of  the  dissenting  tradesman,  finds  that  a  post 
in  life,  in  which  he  can  manifest  the  great 
powers  you  said  were  in  him,  is  closed  to 
him  because  of  such  a  '  social  '  prejudice  : 
when  an  Irishman  in  America  reads  in  the 
advertisements  '  no  Irish  need  apply  ; '  or  an 
American  mother  hears  that  her  well-behaved 
daughter  must  leave  a  good  private  school 
in  which  she  is  making  progress  and  is 
happy,  because  the  head-mistress  informs 
her  that  some  fashionable  parents  object  to 
havins:  their  dauo-hters  in  the  same  school 
with  Jewesses,  — can  they  then  remain  indif- 
ferent and  pass  it  over  lightly  ?  Is  it  enough 
to  say  :   *  I  see  what  you  mean  '?  '* 

As  she  spoke,  Margaret's  tone  became 
more  impassioned  and  her  cheek  was  aglow 
with  indignation. 

"You  are  right,  my  dear  friend  :  those  are 
not  things  to  be   taken    lightly.     They  are 

187 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

matters  for  fight.  They  go  deeper  than  the 
mere  surface  life  of  society — they  have 
notliing  to  (U)  with  tliis  ;  and  here  we  can 
fioht  and  In'ino-  heavy  ffuns  If)  bear  on  the 
enemy.  These  are  moral  and  ethical  (jues- 
tions  and  not  points  of  graceful  social  inter- 
course and  refinement.  But,  in  our  fighting, 
as  in  our  work,  let  us  keep  our  social  life 
apart,  and  not  lose  the  ease  and  naturalness 
we  there  require." 

"  That  would  be  true  if  the  division  were 
all  so  simple,"  Margaret  rejoined  eagerly. 
"  For  the  social  and  the  more  serious  spheres 
of  life  may  overlap,  and  the  general  preju- 
dice may  extend  its  poisonous  ramifications 
into  the  midst  of  men's  social  life,  and  they 
may  not  be  able  to  escape  from  it.  Are  they 
then  to  bend  their  necks  and  still  to  say 
lightly:  'I  see  what  you  mean,'  when  what 
is  meant  is  bad,  and  cruel,  and  vulgar?  How 
can  you  is^nore  these  insults  when  they  ob-' 

trude  themselves  upon  your  attention?" 

188 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

"  Yes,  you  are  right ;  those  are  cases  that 
can  neither  he  ignored  nor  passed  over 
lightly.  I  will  give  you  an  instance  that 
occurred  here  the  other  day."  And  he  pro- 
ceeded to  tell  her  the  incident  of  the  three 
Jewesses  and  the  ball.  He  had  oot  as  far 
in  his  account  as  the  sending  of  the  tickets 
at  last,  when  she  burst  in  with  the  question  : 

"  But  surely  they  did  not  go  ?  "  and  there 
was  a  tone  of  intense  indignation  and  pro- 
test in  her  voice. 

"They  did,"  he  answered. 

"  Then  they  were  devoid  of  all  proper 
pride  and  utterly  contemptible,"  she  ccjn- 
tinued  with  some  passion.  "  They  deserved 
any  ignoble  treatment  at  the  hands  of  any 
society.  They  nuist  have  been  utterly  de- 
void of  all  delicacy  of  feeling  and  even  self- 
respect." 

"I  agree    with    you    there.     That    was    a 

case  in  which  natural  pride  and  dignity  of 

character  ought  to  have  guided  them." 

189 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

"  What  course  would  you  have  pursued  in 
such  a  case,"  she  asked,  "  in  cases  of  that 
class  ?  " 

"Well,  I  shoidd  have  withdrawn  from  a 
circle  where  such  low,  snobbish,  and  ignorant 
ideas  prevailed.  I  should  avoid  such  a  set, 
as  not  being  cither  interesting  or  worthy  of 
my  intercourse.  If  the  whole  place  were 
infected  by  such  a  spirit  I  should  avoid  the 
place," 

"Exactly,"  she  put  in,  "that  is  what  I 
should  do." 

"  But,"  he  continued,  "  I  should  take  great 

care  to  dispel  the  matter  from  my  mind,  as 

unworthy  of  my  notice,  as  the  people  were 

not  fit  for  my  company.     The  action  affected 

their  dignity,  not  my  own,  which  is  not  in 

need  of  confirmation  from  them.      I  should 

freely  choose  company  congenial  to  me  on 

positive  grounds ;  and  above  all,    I  should 

exert  myself  not  to  allow  such  an  experience  i 

to  affect  my  character,  my  general  habit  of 

190 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

looking  upon  people  and  of  estimating 
myself." 

"  I  am  with  you,"  Margaret  said  with 
decision.  "  But  let  us  lie  sympathetic. 
The  difficult^'  remains  for  them.  Those 
ladies  are  surely  handicapped  in  their  social 
bearing,  as  compared  with  those  to  whom 
such  things  cannot  occur  ;  they  cannot  have 
the  same  freedom  and  grace  of  manner, 
when  the  possibility  of  such  an  affront  is 
always  before  them." 

''AYell,"  he  answered,  "the  world  is  large, 
in  reality  and  in  our  thoughts.  If  a  preju- 
dice exists  in  one  place  or  in  one  set  we 
can  keep  out  of  the  way  of  it ;  and  if  Ave 
cannot  always  keep  it  away  from  our  eyes, 
then  there  is  the  moral  and  intellectual 
power  of  ignoring  that  minor  part  of  exist- 
ence, and  of  concentrating  our  thoughts  and 
energies  upon  the  more  important,  more 
noble,  and  more  beautiful  things  of  life. 
In  this   my    unhappy   friend   was    wanting. 

191 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

Society  and  that  phase  of  gregarious  social 
life  are  after  all  not  important.  We  can 
always  have  work,  the  higher  pleasures,  and 
friends ;  we  are  almost  better  ott'  not  to  be 
in  touch  with  anything  that  calls  itself 
society  or  is  recognised  by  the  newspapers 
as  such." 

"I  heartily  agree  with  you,"  she  said 
earnestly.  "  Still,  I  am  tilled  with  indigna- 
tion when  I  think  of  what,  for  instance, 
Jews  in  Germany  must  suffer  from  the  so- 
called  Anti-Semitic  movements,  which  do 
not  turn  on  definite  rights  which  they  can 
fight  for,  and  still  the  persecutions  can  never 
be  ignored." 

"  I  warmly  assent  to  that,"  Campbell  said 
eagerly.  "Were  I  a  Jew  in  Germany  — 
and,  perhaps,  the  most  refined  and  gentle- 
manlike friends  I  have  here  are  Jews  —  I 
should  either  have  to  leave  the  country  or 
to  fight  duels  every  week. 

"Now,  to  sum  up  most  of  what  we  have 

192 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 


been  discussing  :  I  still  hold  that  in  social 
matters  we  must    not    encourage   sensitive- 
ness   and    pride.        The     person     oifended 
cannot  tight  for  his  social  rights  with  effect 
upon  others  or  without   loss  of  dignity  and 
grace    of  demeanour    to    himself.     But    we 
others,  those  who  see  the  wrong    and    are 
not  affected  by  it,  must  stand  up  and  fight. 
That's  what  I  mean  to  do  wherever  I  have 
an  opportunity ;    that  is  the    sphere  where 
chivalry  in  modern  times  can  manifest  itself. 
On  the  other  hand,  let   the  victims  of  such 
prejudice  not    make  our  task  difficult,  and 
let  them   accept    freely  and    graciously  the 
friendly    hand  which    we    offer    without  re- 
serve and  the  service  of  honour  which  we 
do  without  any  claim  upon  gratitude. 
"  Amen,"  he  said. 
And  she  whispered  "Amen." 
Then  they  rose  and  returned  home. 


193 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

VII 

WHATEVER  the  effect  of  this  conversa- 
tion may  have  been  upon  Margaret,  it 
certainly  occupied  Campbell's  thoughts  for 
the  rest  of  the  day.  His  indignation  at  such 
actions  as  the  matter  of  the  dance  was,  if 
anything,  increased,  and  his  determination 
to  fiiiht  such  abuses  wherever  and  whenever 
they  came  in  his  way  was  made  firmer. 

He  began  to  consider  the  three  Jewesses 
of  the  dance  more  charitaljly,  thought  of  the 
possibility  that  they  might  not  have  realised 
all  the  preliminary  discussion  about  them, 
and  decided  in  his  mind  that  people  who 
were  at  all  open  to  such  aftronts  ought  to  be 
judged  more  leniently.  He  decided  that, 
during  his  stay  at  Homburg,  he  would  still 
stand  by  them,  and,  as  a  first  practical  step, 
he  recalled  the  fact  that  he  was  invited  to 
take  a  walk  with  the  Prince  of  Gallia  the 

afternoon  of  the  next  day,  and  to  dine  with 

194 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

him  at  the  Kurhaus  in  the  evening,  and  he 
decided  to  broach  the  matter  to  him  if  an 
opportunity  oftered  itseh".  This  op[)ortunity 
came  in  a  most  natural  manner  in  the  course 
of  his  walk  with  his  royal  friend. 

For  the  Prince  of  Gallia  was  really  his 
friend.  At  all  events,  his  own  feelings  for 
the  Prince  were  those  of  a  warm  attach- 
ment. What  drew  (Jampbell  to  him  with 
real  affection  Avas  the  deep  humanity  in  the 
nature  and  mode  of  action  of  this  Prince. 
He  was  truly  loyal  and  warm  hearted,  full 
of  genuine  human  kindness,  always  anxious 
to  help  or  to  do  some  good  or  graceful  action 
to  whomsoever  he  met,  high  or  low.  Camp- 
bell, when  he  thought  of  him,  always  remem- 
bered him  as  he  saw  him  one  day  in  his 
country  home,  taking  the  greatest  pains  to 
put  a  shy  young  curate,  who  had  been  asked 
in  at  the  eleventh  hour  to  avoid  thirteen  at 
dinner,    at    his    ease.     He    had    paid    more 

attention  to  this  simple  youth  than  to  any 

195 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

of  the  great  people  who  were  guests  in  the 
royal  house.  This  to  Campbell  was  the  key- 
note to  the  Prince's  character. 

The  Prince  was  also  fond  of  Campbell 
and  fond  of  his  society.  In  fact,  Campbell, 
in  his  wide  circle  of  acquaintances  among  all 
conditions  of  men  and  in  many  countries, 
counted  a  number  of  royal  friends  who  were 
all  much  attached  to  him.  This  may  have 
astonished  many  people,  who  did  not  know 
him  well.  He  had  satisfied  himself  on  this 
point  by  saying  to  himself:  "So  long  as  I 
am  nice  to  my  humblest  friends  and  my 
servants,  I  have  a  right  to  be  nice  to 
princes  who  like  my  company  and  whose 
society  I  like."  One  of  the  reasons  why  he 
got  on  so  well  with  people  of  this  condition 
was,  that  he  was  perfectly  free  and  natural 
Avith  them,  and,  barring  the  necessary  for- 
malities, which  he  adhered  to  as  an  officer 
obeys    discipline    in    the    army,   he    viewed 

lliem  truly  and  appreciated  or  avoided  them 

19G 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

for  their  oood  qualities  or  faults  as  he 
did  all  other  people.  He  asked  no  favours 
and  liad  no  personal  interests  to  push, 
nor  did  he  even  wish  to  pi-otit  in  social 
prestige  l)y  his  intercourse  with  them. 
This  they  knew  or  felt,  and  this,  no  dou])t, 
was  one  reason  why  his  pleasant  and  inter- 
esting personality  had  free  sway  over  their 
affections. 

Still,  it  sometimes  mav  have  evoked  com- 
ment  that  a  radical  politician  should  be  the 
personal  friend  of  princes.  And  during  his 
walk  with  the  Prince  a  question  on  this 
point,  put  l)y  the  Prince  himself,  set  the  talk 
in  the  direction  which  Campbell  was  longing 
to  sive  it. 

While  they  were  walking  in  the  woods 
the  Prince  had  at  first  talked  over  with 
Campbell  the  prospects  of  an  educational  in- 
stitution in  the  welfare  of  which  they  were 
both  deeply   interested,    and  the   means  of 

raising  fund-^  for  its  support.      When  they 

197 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

had  dismissed  this  subject,  the  Prince  turned 
to  him  and  said  : 

"  Campbell,  you  know  I  don't  talk  party 
politics,  but  I  have  often  wondered  what 
views  a  man  like  you,  whose  general  politi- 
cal ideas  T  know,  has  of  monarchy  and  the 
position  of  a  monarch.  Do  you  mind  telling 
me?" 

With  the  exception  of  the  foreign  politics 
of  the  Empire,  concerning  which  the  Prince 
would  sometimes  talk  and  manifest  consid- 
erable thought,  insight,  and  grasp,  he  had 
never  heard  him  express  opinions  on  politi- 
cal questions  of  the  day.  He  evidently  did 
not  think  it  right  to  interfere  with  them. 

"Well,  Sir,"  Campbell   answered,    "if  it 

interests  and   pleases  you  to  know  what  I 

think,    I    may    venture    to    tell    you.       Of 

course  I  have  had  to  think  on  this  question 

and  to   make  up  my  mind,  up  to  a  certain 

point.     Whatever  my  final  ideas  of  g(jvern- 

ment  mav  be,  T  think  that  the  constitutional 

198 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

monarchy  as  we  have  it  is,  for  us  as  we  are, 
the  best  thing. 

"  Of  course  you  must  know,  Sir,  that  I 
am  aware  of  all  the  arg-uments  against 
hereditar}^  monarchy,  and  feel  their  force. 
The  arguments  in  its  favor  which  affect  me 
most  strono;ly  are,  amono-  others,  these : 
First,  I  think  the  stability  of  an  administra- 
tive head,  in  what  is,  after  all,  a  republican 
form  of  government  by  the  people,  a  great 
advantage  ;  especially  as  it  allows  the  ques- 
tions of  real  and  practical  importance  among 
the  people  to  come  to  the  fore,  undistracted 
by  the  constant  struggle  and  passions  mov- 
ino-  round  the  o-eneral  form  and  constitution 
of  the  government  as  such.  Then,  as  thino-s 
human  are,  the  consciousness  that  the  re- 
sponsiliility  and  the  liearings  of  each  act  on 
the  part  of  the  head  of  the  state  do  not  end 
with  his  life  or  the  term  of  office,  l)ut  that, 
when  he  even  works  selfishly  for  his  im- 
mediate posterity,   the  consequences    recoil 

199 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

upon  the  family  —  this  may  tend  to  make 
far-sighted  action  more  real  and  intense. 
But  the  really  important  function  of  a  mon- 
arch is,  to  my  mind,  social." 

"  How  do  you  mean  that  ? "  asked  the 
Prince. 

"  Well,  Sir,  I  believe  that  the  social  posi- 
tion which  a  monarch  holds  may  be  turned 
to  the  greatest  practical  use.  It  is  a  power 
which  cannot  be  exercised  in  the  same  direct 
way  by  any  other  force  in  modern  society. 
A  king  can  make  fashionable  whatever  he 
likes.  And  I  believe  that  fashion  is  most 
effective  in  fixing  a  social,  and  even  a  moral, 
tone.  When  duellinsr  and  a  certain  wild- 
ness  of  life  were  in  fjishion  no  preaching 
could  counteract  them.  But  make  them  un- 
fashionable, and  disapproval  works  its  way 
through  all  layers  of  society.  The  social 
and  moral  tone  of  a  nation  thus  lies  to  a  cer- 
tain extent  in  the  hand  of  a  monarch.  It  is 
one  of  the  many  reasons  why  I  deplore  so 

200 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

deeply  the  premature  death  of  the  Emperor 
Frederick ;  because  I  feel  sure  he  would,  in 
a  country  where  the  army  and  bureaucracy 
set  the  social  tone,  have  brought  intellectual 
and  artistic  life  to  the  forefront  of  social  es- 
teem, and  would  have  made  what  is  really 
the  best  at  the  same  time  the  most  fashion- 
able." 

"  That  certainly  would  put  great  powers 
and  responsibilities  upon  us.  Do  you  think 
our  power  in  this  respect  works  so  directly 
and  effectively  ?  " 

"I  do.  Sir,"  Campbell  continued  more 
eagerly ;  and  he  felt  that  his  opportunity 
had  arrived.  "When,  for  instance,  people 
are  snobbishly  excluded  from  higher  social 
circles  the  ruler  can  stultify  prejudice  by 
recognising  the  people  thus  wronged.  Take 
the  prejudices  against  certain  vocations  in 
life,  nationalities,  beliefs,  the  movements 
against  the  Jews." 

And    he    now  recounted    the    instance  of 

201 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

the  three  hidies.  He  was  right  in  his 
estimate  of  the  Prince's  character  in  this 
respect.  He  detested  such  unchivah-ous 
action,  and  he  at  once  asked  Campbell  to 
introduce  the  ladies  to  him  at  the  earliest 
opportunity ;  while,  with  his  fondness  for 
chaif,  he  said  to  Campbell,  lifting  his  finger 
w^arningly,  when  they  parted  : 

"But  I  also  want  to  know  the  other 
young  ladies  with  whom  you  are  always 
seen,  and  whom,  I  am  told,  you  keep 
entirely  to  yourself.  I  shall  see  ^'ou  at 
dinner  this  evening."  And  shaking  hands, 
they  parted. 

VIH 

THE  Prince's  dinner-party  on  the  terrace 
of  the  Kurhaus  that  evening  w^as  a 
very  pleasant  one.  He  was  entertaining  a 
Russian  Grand  Duke,  with  his  wife,  a  real 
grande  dame  in  appearance,  bearing,  and 
manner,  and  her  charming  sister ;  old  Lady 

202 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

Sarah  ^Mannerinof,  a  cross  between  a  motherh' 
friend  and  a  good  fellow  ;  two  distinguished 
peeresses,  mother  and  daughter,  and  an 
English  peer  of  the  sporting  type,  with  his 
good-natured  spouse ;  Sir  Harry  Ruston, 
the  veteran  king  of  war  correspondents  and 
most  witty  and  sparkling  of  talkers,  who 
never  wounded  with  his  wit ;  Campbell,  and 
the  Prince's  aides-de-camjj. 

Campbell  was  seated  between  the  Grand 
Duke's  sister-in-law  and  the  younger  peeress, 
and  could  not  have  had  pleasanter  neigh- 
bours. But  he  was  somewhat  preoccupied  ; 
for,  in  winding  among  the  tables  to  join  his 
party,  he  had  passed  that  of  the  three 
Jewesses,  who  were  dining  with  quite  a 
part}'  of  their  own.  He  had  bowed  in  a 
more  affable  manner  than  before,  and  they 
had  smiled  at  him  in  a  friendly  way ;  l)ut 
again  followed  him  with  their  lorgnettes  held 
up  to  their  eyes.  He  could  not  help  dwell- 
ing upon  the  talk  he  had  had  with  Margaret 

203 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

the  (lav  before,  and  the  sweet  and  solemn 
spirit  of  the  girl  was  over  him  and  kept  him 
from  joining  freely  in  the  sprightly  talk 
al)()ut  him. 

In  spite  of  the  good  cheer,  he  was  relieved 
when  the  Prince  o;ave  the  sio-nal  for  risino-. 

While  he  was  helping  the  Prince  on  with 
his  cape,  he  whispered  : 

"Those  three  ladies  are  here.  Sir." 

"Take  me  to  them,"  the  Prince  said,  and 
bade  his  guests  wait  one  minute,  while  he 
advanced  with  Campbell  towards  the  table 
of  the  three  Jewesses. 

"  They  are  at  that  middle  table  in  front 
of  us.  Sir.     May  I  go  and  tell  them  ?  " 

"  What,  those  three  tall  ladies  in  white?  " 
the  Prince  asked. 

"Yes,  Sir,"  said  Campbell. 

The  Prince  gave  an  amused  chuckle, 
hardly  able  to  contain  his  mirth. 

"  Why,  those  are  the  Princesses  of  Rixen- 

blitz-Galgenstein,  a  mediatised  family  of  the 

204 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

north  of  Germany  ;  they  are  related  to  most 
of  the  royal  families  of  Europe  ;  they  are 
some  sort  of  cousins  of  mine." 

And  he  advanced  to  the  table,  all  the 
part}'  rising  as  he  greeted  the  ladies. 

"  My  friend  Mr.  Campbell  was  just  going 
to  introduce  me  to  you,"  he  said  to  the 
ladies.  "  He  made  a  mistake  which  only 
does  you  and  him  honour,"  he  added,  look- 
ing at  Campbell,  who  stood  in  some  confu- 
sion and  embarrassment. 

As  they  had  also  finished  their  dinner, 
the  Prince  asked  them  to  join  him,  and 
both  parties  went  down  to  the  music,  where 
the  front  seats  had,  by  a  kind  of  tradition, 
l)een  reserved  for  the  Prince.  It  was  here 
that  thev  listened  to  the  music,  and  orave  an 
opportunity  to  people  to  stare  at  the  Prince, 
a  practice  in  which  many,  especially  English 
old  maids,   were  persistently  assiduous. 

Campbell  sat  between  two  of  the  sisters. 

He   conversed    freelv  with  them,  and  their 

205 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

manners  seemed  much  better  than  when  he 
had  first  met  them.  Was  it  owing  to  the 
fact  that  he  was  now  a  more  fully  accredited 
person,  or  rather  that  his  mind  was  free 
from  all  prejudice?  Some  features  which 
had  disturbed  him  before,  such  as  the  imper- 
fect English,  were  now  satisfactorily  ac- 
counted for.  But  some  others,  their  bad 
manners  and  bad  dancing  he  could  not  for- 
give  them. 

On  breaking  up,  the  Prince  nudged 
Campbell,  amused  with  the  good  joke  against 
him,  and  said  threateningly :  "  Now,  mind 
you,  I  want  to  know  the  other  ladies  you 
keep  from  us  !  " 

As  he   walked   home  he  wondered  as    to 

what  his  unbiassed  attitude  to  the  Princesses 

ought  to  be.     He  decided  in  his  mind  that 

he  ought  to  conform  to  the  rules  of  etiquette 

whenever  he  met  them ;  but  that,  as  they  in 

no    way    attracted    him    in    themselves   and 

were  not   congenial  to  him,  he  was   not  to 

206 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

seek  their  company  or  any  more  intimate 
acquaintanceship.  He  could  not  help  con- 
trast! no-  the  charm  and  o-race  of  ^Nlarofaret 
and  her  sisters  with  the  hard,  self-centred, 
and  awkward  manners  of  these  Princesses. 
And  thus,  thinking  of  Margaret  again,  he 
entered  his  room  and  found  on  his  table  a 
note  which  he  opened  and  read  with  growing 
interest.     It  was  from  ^Margaret,  and  ran  : 

Dear  Mr.  Campbell  :  I  have  been  thinkincr  and 
thinking  on  all  that  you  said  to-day.  You  can  hardly 
have  realised  how  every  word  applied  to  my  own  case, 
or  the  deep  impression  your  words  have  made.  I  feel 
as  though  that  conversation  of  yesterday  marked  an 
epoch  in  my  life.  I  am  not  exaggerating  when  I  say 
this,  nor  when  I  assure  you  that  I  shall  be  grateful 
as  long  as  I  live  for  the  influence  you  have  thus  exer- 
cised over  me. 

My  sisters  and  I  are  thankful  to  you  for  your  kind- 
ness to  us  during  the  last  days  of  our  stay  here  when 
we  needed  such  kindness  most.  You  have  converted 
what  I  thought  would  be  a  period  of  misery  into  one 
of  exceptional  happiness. 

Our  stay  is  now  coming  to  an  end.     We  leave  to- 

207 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

morrow  afternoon  for  Frankfurt,  where  we  join  our 
relations  on  our  way  back  to  England. 

May  I  ask  as  a  last  kindness  that  you  will  come 
for  a  walk  with  me  to-morrow  morning  at  9.30? 
There  is  something  I  must  tell  you,  which,  when  I 
consider  all  your  unreserved  confidence,  I  ought,  per- 
haps, to  have  told  you  before.  And  I  should  not  like 
to  leave  without  having  told  you  freely  what  may  not 
be  of  any  import  to  you,  but  what  has  so  filled  my 
whole  mind  during  these  last  days  that  I  almost  look 
upon  it  as  a  matter  kejjt  by  me  from  your  knowledge, 
which  you  had  a  claim  to  know. 

Do  not  trouble  to  answer  if  you  can  join  me  here  at 
9.30  to-morrow. 

Gratefully  and  sincerely  yours, 

Margaret  Lewson. 

His  thoughts  were  with  her  as  he  lay 
awake  in  l)ed,  and  when  resolution  had 
quieted  his  mind  tossing  about  on  the 
Avaves  of  passion,  he  fell  asleep  to  dream  of 
her. 


208 


T 


A    HOMBUIIG    STOKV 

IX 

IIK  next  morning  he  arose  early  and 
.sent  his  valet  to  Margaret  with  a  note 
saying  that  if  it  made  no  ditt'erence  to  her 
he  would  propose  that  they  shoidd  1)icycl(' 
instead  of  walking. 

So  it  was  that  at  half-past  nine  they 
started  on  their  bicycles  and  took  their  way 
towards  the  Tannenwald  and  the  Saalburg. 

Margaret  wore  the  same  costume  as  on 
the  tirst  dav  of  their  meeting:.  She  did  not 
say  nmch  after  the  greeting ;  and  as  they 
rode  on  silently  she  seemed  absorl)ed  in 
thouijhts  that  were  wei^hino:  on  her  mind. 
When  he  told  her  that  the  Prince  wished  to 
make  her  acquaintance  and  that  of  her  sisters 
she  answered  quietly  and  firmly  : 

"  I  am  afraid  that  cannot  be  ;  for  we  must 
leave  this  afternoon.  I  hope  it  will  not 
appear  rude.  It  is  kind  of  him  and  kind  of 
you,  and  I  appreciate  it  fully." 

209 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

As  with  common  consent,  they  rode  on 
through  the  avenue  and  then  turned  up  the 
hill,  dismounting  and  pushing  their  machines. 
When  they  came  to  the  little  path  into  the 
woods  Campbell  led  the  way  and  ^Margaret 
followed.  Soon  they  were  at  the  beautiful 
spot  with  the  spring. 

When  they  arrived  there  a  haze  was  over 
the  plains  and  valley  and  over  the  houses  of 
Homburg ;  but  the  sky  was  bright  above 
them  and  promised  a  fair  and    warm    day. 

There  were  a  few  clouds  which  were  still 
hiding  the  sun,  drawn  up  by  the  sun's 
warmth  to  hide  its  brilliant  light  for  a  time  ; 
but  he  sent  his  curtained  rays  throuah  the 
cloudlets,  and  they  were  slowly  melting  away. 

Campbell  arranged  two  seats  with  dry 
boughs  and  pine  needles,  and  she  sat  beside 
him,  both  looking  over  the  plain  Ijelow, 
their  eyes  shielded  from  the  sunlight  by  the 
passing  mist  and  clouds. 

Margaret  began  after  a  short  pause.     Her 

210 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

voice  was  at  first  colourless  and  she  spoke 
without  signs  of  emotion. 

"  What  has  been  occupying  my  mind  dur- 
ing the  days  I  have  known  you,  and  has 
been  upon  my  spirits  with  deadening  weight, 
is  the  insult  which  we  experienced  the  day 
before  I  met  you. 

"  We  are  the  three  Jewesses  who  had 
tickets  refused  them  for  the  dance,  and  for 
whom  you  so  nobly  entered  the  lists.  I  will 
tell  you  how  it  happened. 

"  When  we  arrived    here  in  high    spirits 

about  three  weeks  ago,   it  was    with    some 

English  friends  of  ours  who  had  persuaded 

us    to  join  them.     With    their  friends  and 

some  of  our  own,  among  whom  were  some 

American  ladies  with  wlioni  T  had  been  at 

school,  and  who  had  enjoyed  the  hospitality 

of  my    father's    house,   we    had    a    pleasant 

circle,  and  joined  in  all  the  amusements  of 

the  place.     We  were  fond  of  dancing  and 

took  part  in  several  of  these  dances. 

211 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

"On  the  day  preceding  the  dance  in  ques- 
tion an  Englishman  of  our  acquaintance 
asked  us  to  go,  and  said  he  would  procure 
the  tickets.  But  the  tickets  did  not  come 
that  day  nor  on  the  morning  or  afternoon  of 
the  dance,  and  we  at  last  had  to  notice  that 
the  Englishman  endeavored  to  escape  meet- 
ino-  us.  In  his  avoidance  of  us,  as  well  as 
in  his  manner  when  circumstances  threw  us 
together,  he  manifested  such  embarrassment, 
that  after  he  told  us,  Avith  many  apologies, 
'that  the  numbers  were  full  and  Ihere  were 
no  more  tickets  to  be  had'  the  truth 
dawned  upon  us.  The  explanations  which 
he  thought  it  necessary  to  make  in  addition 
made  the  refusal  clear.  In  the  evening, 
just  before  dinner,  a  messenger  came  to  our 
lodgings,  evidently  despatched  in  haste,  wdth 
the  tickets,  sent  by  a  person  unknown  to  us. 

"  Of  course  we  did  not  go.     But  the  l)l()w 

it  was  to  me  I  can  hardly  convey  to  you. 

I  began  to  see  ever}i;hing  in  the  light  of  that 

212 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

affront,    and    perhaps    innocent    deeds    and 

remarks  made  by  some  of  tlie  ladies  before, 

strangenesses  of  manner,  all  appeared  in  a 

new  and,  as  I  thouoht,  true  aspect  against 

the    l)ackground    of  this    insult.       Oh,    the 

misery  it  was  to  us  !     We  should  have  left  at 

once  had  wo  not  made  an  appointment  with 

our  relations  whom  we  meet   to-day.     But 

we  decided  to  keei)  out  of  the  way  of  any 

possible  further  slight.     This  experience  was 

certainly    beo'innino-    to    sadden,    if    not    to 

embitter  my  life.     And  then  we  met  you, 

and    your    kindness,    especially    your    talk 

yesterday,   has    counteracted    the    eyil.       It 

came  in  good  time,  and  I  feel    sure  it  has 

sayed  me  from   a  graye  moral   disease  which 

was  beginning  to  lay  its  hold  upon  me.      I 

thank  you  warndy  for  this. 

"But    I    should    be    conveying    a    wrong 

impression    to  you  were    1   to    lead  you   to 

believe  ihat  this  Homburg    experience  was 

an    absolute     surprise    to     me,     with     the 

213 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

nature    of    which    I  had    been    completely 
unfamiliar. 

"  It  is  true  that  for  the  greater  part  of  my 
life  I  remained  quite  io-norant  of  the  existence 
of  such  a  prejudice  ;  nor  have  the  results 
ever  before  made  themselves  directly  and 
grossly  felt  by  me  or  my  family.  Our  home 
in  New  England  was  a  very  happy  one,  and 
our  circle  of  friends  was  wide  and  varied. 
My  father's  house  formed  a  hospitable  centre 
for  intellectual  intercourse.  Thouoh  we 
knew  nothing  of  a  synagogue,  I  was  aware  of 
the  differing  religious  and  sacred  traditions 
of  our  own,  and,  I  must  confess,  that  when 
I  did  dwell  upon  them  it  was  only  with 
pride  —  nay,  with  a  strong  dash  of  dreamy 
romance.  Emerson,  who  was  a  friend  of  my 
father's,  Channing  and  the  Boston  Unitarians 
and  Rationalists,  were  the  intellectual  ouides 
to  our  religious  convictions  :  and  the  Jewish 
faith  I  looked  upon  with  pride  as  the  founda- 
tion of  s]uritual  monotheism  for  all  times. 

214 


A  homburCt  story 

Moses  was  to  me  the  forerunner  of  all  these 
modern  theists. 

'■  My  mother's  family  sprang  from  that 
old  group  of  Newport  Jews,  most  of  whom 
have  been  lost  as  Jews  l)y  intermarriage 
among;  the  old  Xew  En<jland  fVimilies.  And 
when  at  Newport  I  passed  the  park  and 
monument  of  Touro,  whose  kin  I  was,  and 
saw  the  old  orraveyard  of  the  Jews,  I  would 
read  and  recite  Longfellow's  poem  on  this 
Jewish  cemetery  and  would  feel  imbued  with 
the  poetic  spirit  surrounding  these  people, 
their  heroism  and  martyrdom,  against  which 
the  picture  of  the  '  Mayflower '  Puritans 
would  fade  into  colourless  commonplace. 

"  My  father's  family  had  been  more  re- 
cently En2;lish,  as  I  told  you.  But  I 
would  listen  with  rapt  attention  as  a  child 
to  his  beautiful  account  of  the  life  and 
sufferings  of  his  ancestors  in  Spain  and 
England,  and  I  perused  and  devoured  with 
avidity  the  literatuie  relatino-  to  these  Span- 

215 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

isli  Jews.  The  King  of  the  Chasari,  con- 
verted to  eJudaisni  in  the  eightli  centuiy,  the 
philosopher  Maimonides,  the  poet  Judah 
ben  Halevy,  were  heroes  of  mine  ;  and  the 
brilliant  and  refined  life  of  the  great  Jews 
of  Spain  and  Portugal  was  the  sphere  in 
which  I  loved  to  dwell  in  charnied  im- 
agination, as  much  as  any  nobleman  can 
dwell  with  delight  upon  the  exploits  of  his 
mediaeval  ancestors.  Born  in  America,  I 
was  especially  pleased  to  run  across  a 
treatise  published  a  few  years  ago  which 
showed  what  direct  share  Jews  had  in  the 
enterprise  of  Columlms,  to  the  astronomical 
and  geographical  data  for  which  the}'  con- 
tributed, and  in  which  several  Jews  partici- 
pated. 

"  But  the  fio-ure  I  admired  most  was  niv 
own  ancestor  Don  Isaac  Abrabanel,  and  I 
loved  to  read  of  his  life.  The  picture  given 
by  the  few  words   in  which   he  describes  his 

life  before   his  expulsion  from   Portugal  by 

216 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

the  Inquisition  was  constantly  in  my  mind, 
and  I  l)uilt  upon  it  dreams  of  the  past. 
'  Peaceably,*  the  old  man  wrote  of  liimself, 
'  I  lived  in  my  father's  house  in  the  far-famed 
Lisbon,  and  God  had  showered  upf)n  me 
many  blessings,  wealth,  and  honour.  T  had 
])uilt  great  edifices  and  vast  halls  ;  my  house 
was  a  centre  for  the  learned  and  the  wise.  I 
was  beloved  in  the  palace  of  Alphonso,  a 
mighty  and  just  king,  under  whom  the  Jews 
were  free  and  enjoyed  prosperity.  I  was 
closely  tied  to  him  ;  he  leant  upon  me,  and, 
as  long  us  he  lived,  I  freely  entered  the 
palace.' 

"  One  of  my  fiivourite  heroines  was  ^Nlaria 
Nuiies,  who  was  sent  from  Portugal  by  her 
distinguished  mother  in  the  ship  of  Jacol> 
Tirado.  An  English  frigate  captured  the 
Portuguese  vessel.  The  commander,  an 
Englisli  duke,  was  so  much  attracted  by 
Maria  that  he  ottered  her  marriage  and  was 
refused.     When  the    captives    were    led    to 

217 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

London  the  beauty  of  Maria  caused  such  a 
sensation  that  Queen  Elizabeth  was  anxious 
to  make  the  acquaintance  of  the  girl  wJio 
had  refused  a  duke.  She  invited  her  to  an 
audience  and  drove  througli  tlie  streets  of 
London  with  her.  It  was  throuoli  her 
influence  tliat  the  captive  Marranos  were 
enabled  to  leave  England,  and  she  worked 
for  her  people  when  they  were  settled  in 
Holland. 

"  With  all  these  thoughts  of  the  past,  I 
still  lived  wholly  and  with  pure  delight  in  the 
present  and  the  future,  and  I  was  speciall}' 
responsive  to  social  pleasures.  I  even  think 
that  I  was  not  free  from  the  '  social  '  ambi- 
tion to  shine  and  be  prominent  in  the  circles 
which  are  widely  recognised  as  leading  the 
tone,  that  tills  the  hearts  of  so  many  young 
women,  often  to  the  exclusion  and  extinction 
of  all  nobler  aspirations.  And  my  cravings 
were    fully    satisfied.       Dances,    parties     of 

all    kinds,  visits  to   fashionable  resorts,  and, 

218 


A  homburct  story 


above  all,  our  own  l)eautiful  house  and 
home,  —  all  these  I  had,  and  they  gave  me 
opportunities  of  playing  a  prominent  social 
part. 

"  But  I  Avas  by  main  force  made  aware  of 
the  existence  of  prejudice,  though  it  did  not 
touch  my  deeper  emotional   experience  and 
sympathy.      For  it  was   not  directed  imnie- 
diatelv  aaainst  me  and  mv  own  people.     It 
only  touched  the  surface  of  my  apjn-ehension, 
without   making  me   really  suffer  myself  or 
suffer  in  sympathy  with  others.     I  read  of 
the    Anti-Semitic    movements  aljroad ;  but, 
except  for  momentary  bursts  of  indignation, 
and  a  great   contempt  for  the   country  and 
people    where    such   vulgar   folly   and   igno- 
rance prevailed,  no  lasting  or  deeper  impres- 
sions were  made  upon  me. 

"  I  cannot  say  the  same  for  the  manner  in 
which  I  occasionally  overheard  my  friends, 
especially  my  women  friends,  refer  to  other 

Jewish  women    during    our   travels,    or    at 

:219 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

some  of  our  favourite  fashionable  resorts. 
These  references  stigmatised  them  as  some- 
thing of  the  nature  of  social  outcasts.  I 
began  to  think  it  over  ;  a  sense  of  resistance, 
of  indignation  at  the  injustice,  l)egan  to  grow 
in  me  ;  and  with  it  a  prick  of  conscience 
whether  I  ought  not  to  associate  myself  with 
the  ranks  of  these  weaker  ones  Avith  whom 
I  was  so  intimately  connected 'by  ties  of  his- 
tor}-^  and  tradition.  But  the  remoteness  of 
these  experiences  as  regarded  myself,  the 
freshness  of  my  youthful  spirits,  and  the 
fulness  of  my  pleasant  and  varied  life  carried 
me  over  it.  Still  T  began  to  think  of  the 
matter,  and,  at  all  events,  while  I  was  Ije- 
ginning  to  lose  the  absolute  lightness  and 
na'iveU  of  my  social  bearing,  I  was  prepared 
to  receive  these  experiences  in  the  very 
heart  of  my  sensitiveness. 

"  And    then    came    this    l)low    here ;     and 
with  it  all    the  intensity  and    bitterness   of 

the    feelings    over  which  a  thoughtless  and 

220 


A    HOMBUKG    STORY 

youthful  temperament  had  caused  me  to 
slur.  In  those  few  davs  I  lived  my  whole 
life  over  again.  I  reproached  myself  sternly 
with  disloyalty  to  those  unfortunate  ones,  by 
whom,  as  the  better  favoured  and  stronger,  I 
ought  for  years  to  have  stood.  I  realised 
how  much  then  ni^^^f  have  suftered  :  and  I 
vowed  that  from  that  day  I  would  stand 
under  their  colours  and  tight  for  them.  A 
great  resentment,  not  only  against  the  of- 
fendei-s,  but  against  society  in  general,  was 
beginning  to  tix  itself  permanently  in  my 
heart. 

"  And  then  you  came,  and  by  the  delicacy 
and  generous  kindness  of  your  manner  you 
softened  my  mood  ;  while,  l)y  the  clear  and 
supreme  reasonableness  of  what  you  have 
said,  you  showed  me  the  true  projmrtion  of 
life  in  general,  and  of  my  own  life  in  par- 
ticular. Last  night  in  bed  '  I  stood  upon 
the  highest  point  of  my  life  and  self,'  and 

saw  stretched  out  before  me,  as  this   plain 

221 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 


lies  at  our  feet,  the  world  of  people,  things, 
and  events,  and  my  own  little  life  amon^ 
them,  and   I  see  clearly  what  I  ought  to  do 

—  which  makes  me  intensely  happy. 

"  I  mean  to  fight  for  these  people  with  the 
weapons  which  my  feeble  hands  are  capable 
of  wielding ;  and  still  I  wish  to  strufforle 
against  bitterness  in  my  own  heart,  and 
strive  to   retain  the  freshness  and  lightness 

—  and  grace,  if  I  have  such  —  of  pleasant 
intercourse  with  the  people  I  meet. 

"The  hateful  prejudice  is  chiefly  based 
upon  ignorance  of  the  past  and  present  life 
of  the  Jews.  I  am  in  a  position  to  know 
both,  and  to  make  them  known  to  others. 
I  shall  continue  my  studies  of  the  non- 
biblical  and  non-theological  history  of  the 
Jews,  and  shall  then  strive  to  make  it  widely 
known  in  the  beautiful  Enolish  lanouao'e 
which  I  love  to  wield,  however  imperfectly. 
This  will  be  some  real  work  for  me  to  do  ;  it 
will  be  "  fighting'  and  not  '  quarrelling.'     As 


222 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

for  mv  social  life,  I  wish  to  fomet  and  to 
ignore  the  light,  to  accept  and  select  my 
friends  as  heretofore,  and  above  all,  to 
accept  with  '  gratitude  and  gracefulness  '  any 
noble  friendship  which  is  nobly  oftered  mo, 
such  as  you,  my  dear  friend,  have  been 
moved  to  bring  within  my  reach." 

There  was  a  touching  solemnity  in  her 
voice  as  she  uttered  these  last  words,  and 
still  looking  straight  before  her  in  the 
distance,  she  extended  her  hand  to  him. 
He  rose  from  his  seat,  and  grasped  her 
hand. 

"  Xo,"  he    said    passionately,  ''  it    is    not 

friendship  which  I  offer  you,  Margaret,  —  it 

is  love,  the  purest  love  of  a  man,  the  purest 

love  of  my  life.     Do  not  spurn  it !     From 

the  first  moment  my  eyes  gazed  on  you,  I 

was  full  of  your  image,  of  your  whole  being, 

and  I  can  never  tear  myself  from  you.     You 

are   my  queen,    and  I   your   humble    slave. 

I   bless  you,   you   sweetest    woman,    in  all 

223 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

humility.     Your    tight    shall    l)e    uiy    tight, 

j  your  peace   and  joy   shall   ])e  mine,   and  I 

shall  always  be  wholly  yours.     Listen,  you 

sweet  oirl   let  me  lie  sober.     I  am  an  ordi- 

nary  man,  who  has  lived  an  ordinary  life  ; 

/have  not  much  to  be  proud  of  in  my  })ast, 

l)ut  nothing  dishonourable  that    I    need   be 

ashamed  of.     I  come  from  simple  people,  my 

ancestors   commonplace  lairds  in  the  rough 

and   arid  hills  of  Scotland  ;   I  have  not  the 

poetry  of  the  great  traditions  of  your  race 

and    family    to     beautify    and    mellow    the 

music  of  my  soul ;  but  let  me  thrill  with  it 

from   you,   let  me  feel  the   resonance   of  a 

great  moral  purpose  and  struggle  Avhich  for 

centuries    of  steadfastness    and    martyrdom 

have    ripened    and     ennobled    your     race. 

Margaret,    be  mine   wholly.      Can   you   not 

love  me  ?     Do  you  not  care  for  me  a  little 

only?" 

She  sat   motionless,   her  hand    resting   in 

his,    her    eyes    still    tixed    before    her ;    but 

224 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

her  nostrils  and  lips  (|uivered,  as  she  said 
feebly  : 

"I  do  and  have,  more  than  I  wished  to." 

"  Oh,  bless  you  for  that,  my  queen  !  How 
lovely  you  are  I  —  if  you  knew  it  you  would 
waste  yourself  in  self-adoration.  Come  and 
see  ; 

And  with  that  he  drew  her  by  the  hand 
to  the  silent  i)ool,  and  they  knelt  doun,  and 
with  heads  close  together  they  gazed  into  its 
limpid  depths. 

It  had  been  mysteriously  dark  on  that 
first  afternoon.  But  now  the  sun  touched 
its  smooth,  clear,  unrutfied  surface,  and  they 
gazed  each  upon  the  image  of  the  other 
reflected  from  the  pure,  bright  mirror,  and 
drank  themselves  drunk  with  the  sight  of 
the  face  they  each  loved. 

Then  he  rose,  and  drew  her  up  close  to 
him,  with  gentle  strength.  She  resisted,  but 
he  whispered : 

"  Margaret,  can  you  not  put  trust  in  me?  " 

225 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

And  he  kissed  her  lips,  she  clinging  to  him 
in  a  long  embrace. 

Then  they  turned  and  gazed  once  more 
upon  the  lovely  scene  at  their  feet.  The 
sun  had  dissipated  the  clouds  before  it,  and 
the  haze  hovering  over  the  plain.  The 
landscape  was  laughing  in  purest  light  ; 
Homburg  lay  there  like  a  child  smiling  and 
resting  in  the  meadows.     All  was  gladness. 


X 

MARGARET  and  her  sisters  left  that 
afternoon.  They  did  not  wait  to  be 
presented  to  the  Prince.  Campbell  and  his 
love  wrote  to  each  other  every  day.  He 
then  joined  them  in  England. 

In  six  months  they  were  married  and  are 
the  happiest  couple  I  know.  She  has  pub- 
lished some  articles,  and  is  now  writing  a 
book,  on  the  history  of  the  Jews.     He  takes 

an    active   interest    in  her  work,  as    she  is 

226 


A    HOMBURG    STORY 

keenly  interested  in  hi^.  She  is  a  great 
favourite  in  London  society,  and  a  charming- 
hostess.  There  is  no  house  where  more  in- 
teresting people  are  met  than  at  the  Cani})- 
bells'.  Her  manners  are  perfect  in  their 
grace  and  naturalness  —  especially  with  the 
best-bred  and  really  superior  peo[)le.  With 
those  not  of  the  absolutely  best  brcedinof 
one  may  occasionally  n(^tice  a  certain  hesita- 
tion and  constraint  in  her  bearino-.  She  is 
herself  not  dra\vn  to  Homburg ;  but,  know- 
ing that  it  is  good  fur  his  health,  she  accom- 
panies him  to  the  place,  and  likes  it  when 
once  she  is  there.  They  invariably  make  a 
pilgrimage  to  the  pool  in  the  woods. 


227 


cm    BONO? 

IT  was  about  five  o'clock  on  a  drizzly  after- 
noon early  in  October  when  James  Caus- 
ton,  M.A.,  Fellow  of  All  Souls'  College, 
Oxford,  arrived  at  Victoria  Station  from  the 
Continent,  and  at  once  drove  to  his  lodgings 
in  Half  Moon  Street.  He  had  spent  a  de- 
lightful holiday  in  Switzerland,  with  some 
Alpine  climbing,  of  which  he  was  passion- 
ately fond  :  and,  after  descending  into  Italy, 
he  had  lounged  for  a  few  days  at  Cadenabbia 
on  the  Lake  of  Como,  taking  what  he  called 
a  sun-bath.  This  consisted  for  a  great  part 
of  lying  in  a  boat,  now  dipping  into  a  favourite 
book,  now  dreaming  as  he  gazed  over  the 
lake  dotted  with  its  villas  or  towards  the 
fringe  of  lofty  mountains  straining  upwards 
as  if  to  meet  a  serene  blue  sky. 

But  this  holiday  had  abruptly  terminated, 
owing  to  some  special  work  which  he  was 
called  to  do  at  his  college,  where  his  suc- 

228 


cm    BONO? 


cessful  researches  into  classical  literature, 
and  further  afield,  into  comparative  philol- 
oijy  and  niytholoo:v,  had  won  for  him  a 
position  of  weight  and  pi'ominence.  He 
had  therefore  travelled  direct  without  inter- 
mission from  Lugano  through  Lucerne  to 
Basle,  where  he  had  caught  the  night 
express,  and,  by  good  luck,  had  found  a 
berth  in  the  sleeping-cars.  Thus,  in  just 
over  thirty  hours  he  was  transferred  from 
the  Lake  of  Como  to  Half  Moon  Street, 
Piccadilly. 

And  an  abrupt  change  it  was  :  not  only 
a  change  in  surroundings,  — from  the  placid 
sunny  lake  to  the  dim  noisy  streets  of  the 
metropolis,  —  but  also,  and  partly,  in  con- 
sequence, a  change  in  his  mood,  from  the 
unreflecting  passive  repose  of  his  silent  com- 
munion with  nature  to  the  restless  anticij^a- 
tion  of  work  to  come  and  the  distractino-  un- 
certainty  of  what  to  do  next  in  the  world's 
city  where  there  was  so  much  to  do. 

229 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

After  he  had  taken  his  bath  and  dressed 
for  dinner  this  question  of  what  to  do  next 
filled  hiin  with  perplexing  unrest ;  and  with 
it  came  a  sense  of  hopeless  depression  and 
a  distasteful  loneliness  which  he  had  not 
experienced  when  alone  on  some  mountain- 
side in  the  high  Alps.  It  was  not  the  sense 
of  loneliness  which  spreads  its  dark  wings 
over  a  man  arriving  in  the  great  metropolis 
as  a  total  stranger ;  for  he  knew  his  London 
w^ell,  l)elonged  to  several  clubs,  and  had 
innumerable  friends  residino-  there.  There 
was  a  stronger  admixture  of  unrest  and  un- 
certainty which  came  from  his  very  familiarity 
with  the  place,  from  the  very  knowledge  that 
he  had  so  many  social  relations  to  it,  and 
that,  for  the  moment,  he  could  fix  upon  none 
with  certainty  and  definiteness  to  free  him 
from  the  obsession  of  melancholy  which  was 
laying  hold  of  him. 

Where  was  he  to  go  ?     Who  was  in  London 

at  that  time  of  the    year?     At    what    door 

230 


GUI    BONO? 


should  he  knock  which,  if  the  owner  were 
there,  would  no  doubt  be  readily  opened  to 
him?  Was  it  woj'th  while  trying  Mr.  This 
or  Mrs.  That,  who  had  so  often  pressed  him 
"  to  look  them  up  when  in  town,"  with  the 
chance  of  a  lonely  footman  or  a  slatternly 
caretaker  answering  the  bell  after  a  lono- 
interval  and  informing  him  that  the  master 
or  mistress  w^as  in  the  country,  in  Scotland, 
or  abroad?  No,  really,  it  was  not  worth 
trying  any  house. 

And  as  for  clubs  !  Was  he  to  try  the 
serious  Savonian  or  the  stately  Minerva, 
where,  if  he  met  any  men,  he  would  l)e  put 
by  them  into  the  mood  of  the  work  he  was 
to  face  at  Oxford,  and  would  breathe  the 
atmosphere  which  he  wished  to  dispel  from 
himself  as  long  as  possible? 

"  No,"  he  said,  rising  with  brighter  deter- 
mination, and  throwino:  off  the  heavy'  in- 
activity  of  his  doubts,   "  I  shall  go   to  the 

Buckingham,  where  there  is  no  suggestion 

231 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

of  '  sap,'  where  an  air  of  homely  elegance 
pervades  every  room,  where,  at  all  events, 
I  shall  have  a  o-ood  dinner,  beautifullv 
served,  and  where,  if  I  do  meet  anybody, 
I  shall  receive  sugiyestions  of  what,  in  my 
present  mood,  will  replace  the  sun  and 
the  artistic  reminiscences  of  Italy  ;   namely, 

« 

the  healthy,  fresh,  out-of-door  life  and  the 
unostentatious  spirit  of  social  comfort  of 
England." 

So  he  strode  down  Piccadilly  into  St. 
James  Stre.et,  and  as  he  walked  down  this 
broad  thoroughfare,  under  the  light  of  the 
street  lamps,  and  turned  into  Pall  Mall,  his 
step  had  already  become  light  and  energetic  ; 
he  had  a  clear  goal  before  him,  and  he  began 
to  appreciate  and  to  enjoy  the  fannliarity  of 
London  street-life,  with  its  numerous  sug- 
gestions of  oood  and  evil. 

As    he    entered  the  (Mub  the  hall  porter 

informed  him  that  letters  had  come,  off  and 

on,  during  the   last  few   months,   but  that, 

232 


GUI    BONO? 


accordino;  to  instructions,  he  had  forwarded 
them  to  Oxford.  While  he  was  helped  off 
with  his  top-coat  he  cast  an  eager  gUmce  at 
the  hat-racks  to  see  whether  there  was  any 
other  member  in  the  Club.  His  heart  sank 
when  he  saw  his  own  top-hat  in  solitary  re- 
splendence on  the  wall  ;  and  the  mood  which 
overcame  him  was  almost  as  black,  and  his 
brain  seemed  to  be  as  empty,  as  was  his 
solitary  head-gear.  Still  there  was  some 
hope  that,  as  was  the  custom,  some  member 
might  l)e  in  the  upper  room  with  his  hat  on. 
So  he  ascended  the  thickly-carpeted  staircase 
to  the  front  smoking-room,  where,  however, 
he  found  the  papers  in  undisturbed  order, 
and  not  a  soul  to  enjoy  its  cosey  comfort, 
which  struck  him  now  as  blank  and  cheer- 
less. 

It  was  seven  o'clock.  Another  hour  be- 
fore he  could  dine.  The  large  room  Avas 
well  lit  with  electric  light :  while  the  fire, 
blazino-  briohtlv,  seemed  to  mix  its  red  and 


233 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 


yellow  gleam    with    the    pale    white    of  the 
electric  lio;ht. 

Causton  took  up  an  evening  paper  and  let 
himself  down  heavily  into  one  of  the  large 
easy-chairs  before  the  fire.     He  glanced  over 
the    headings,  skimmed   through  the    news, 
foreign   and  personal,  but  soon  rose   impa- 
tiently.    He    walked    to    one   of  the    round 
tables  at  the  far  end  of  the  room,  turned  the 
leaves  of  some  of  the  English   and  foreign 
reviews  and  magazines,  thought  he  saw  an 
article  which  would  interest  him,  sat  down, 
and    began    to    read    it.     But    after   a    few 
pages    he    rose    abruptly    and    threw    the 
review  on  the  table.      He  touched   a   bell, 
and  when  a  servant  entered  noiselessly  he 
asked  : 

"Was    anybody    in    the    .Club    this  after- 


noon ?  " 


"  Very  few,  sir,"  the  waiter  replied. 
"  There  were  quite  a  number  here  yesterday  ; 
l)ut  this   afternoon  T  only  saw  the  Marquis 


234 


GUI    BONO  ? 


of  Brentwood  and  Lord  Sevenoaks.  There 
may  have  been  some  others,  sir,  but  I  did 
not  see  them." 

"  Very  well,"  he  said,  and  turned  away, 
feeling  almost  ashamed  for  having  asked  so 
nuich,  as  if  he  had  peered  into  the  afl'airs  of 
other  people. 

He  then  lit  the  electric  light  at  one  of 
the  writing-tables  and  mechanically  began  to 
write  some  letters.  He  was  always  behind- 
hand with  his  extensive  correspondence,  and 
used  every  available  spare  minute  to  regain 
lost  ground.  But,  after  writing  one  or  two 
short  notes  to  Oxford,  which  at  once  sug- 
gested themselves  to  him,  he  could  not  think 
of  any  others,  though  he  knew  there  were 
many  he  had  to  write.  He  looked  at  his 
watch  aoain,  havins;  done  so  several  times 
before,  and  though  it  still  wanted  quarter  of 
an  hour  to  eio-ht  he  decided  to  dine. 

"  How  stupid  we  are,"  he  said  to  himself, 
"  to  clino-  to  a  rule  like  o-allev-slaves  !     Here 


THE    SUEFACE    OF    THINGS 

I  am,  hungry  and  bored,  and  I  force  myself 
to  wait,  simply  because  it  has  been  my  habit 
not  to  dine  before  eight."  And  with  this 
he  entered  the  dining-room. 

It  was  a  long  rectangular  room,  with 
light-coloured  walls,  decorated  with  good 
prints,  sporting,  shooting,  and  hunting,  — 
light,  without  being  frivolous,  as  befits  a 
dining-room.  Small  square  tables  were 
placed  round  the  walls,  side  by  side,  with 
a  narrow  passageway  between  them.  These 
were  all  meant  for  single  diners,  who  sat 
with  their  backs  to  the  wall,  leaving  the  other 
three  sides  of  the  table  unoccupied.  The 
diners  could  thus  converse  with  one  another, 
even  across  the  room  ;  while  the  tables  could 
be  moved  too-ether,  and  In-ins;  those  who 
desired  it  closer.  For  dinner-parties  a 
special  room  was  reserved  on  the  upper 
floor. 

When  Causton  entered,  one  of  the  ser- 
vants, as  was  the  custom,  pulled  one  of  the 

26^ 


CUI    BONO? 


tables  from  the  wall,  and  when  he  had  seated 
himself,  closed  him  in.  He  sat  as  in  a 
stronghold  from  which  he  could  overlook 
the  whole  room,  and,  especially,  could  con- 
trol the  door,  towards  which  his  eyes  turned 
expectantly  every  now  and  then. 

As  yet  the  only  living  objects  he  could 
feast  his  eyes  on  were  the  waiters.  They 
certainly  had  a  cachet  of  their  own  in  this 
club,  from  the  severe  maltre  (Tholel,  thin, 
short,  with  grey  whiskers,  the  type  of  a 
foreign  diplomat,  generally  in  a  frock-coat, 
and  the  cheerful-looking,  tall,  stout  butler 
in  faultless  evening  dress,  to  the  waiters  in 
their  quiet  blue  liveries  with  gilt  buttons, 
their  black  breeches  with  gold  knee-straps, 
their  ])lack  silk  stockings  and  buckle  shoes. 
They  all  seemed  to  have  attained  the  height 
of  discipline  and  of  deportment.  They 
moved  about  noiselessly,  without  crawling 
or  manifesting  that  nerve-vexing  determina- 
tion to  do  things  quietly  which  makes  some 

237 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

walk  and  act  as  if  they  were  in  a  sick-room 
or  a  mortuary  chamber.  They  l)ore  them- 
selves with  simple,  dignified  politeness, 
without  a  touch  of  the  obsequiousness  which 
disturbs  Englishmen  in  most  foreifin  ser- 
vants ;  and  their  accurate  and  unfailing 
appellation  of  the  members  by  their  several 
titles  had  a  touch  rather  of  military  disci- 
pline than  of  serviUty. 

Causton  had  ordered  a  small  dinner  :  Con- 
somme a  la  Reine,  soles  a  la  Chantilly,  and 
a  grouse.  The  cooking  was  always  excel- 
lent, the  materials  of  the  best,  and  the  wines 
were  pure  and  well  selected.  As  a  rule  he 
chose  a  pint  of  simple  Mosel  wine  —  a  Bern- 
castler  Doctor ;  but  on  this  occasion  ho  felt 
he  required  additional  cheering ;  so  he  chose 
an  '84  champagne. 

The  good  fare   began  to  cheer  him,   and 

a  warm  feeling  of  contentment,  arising  out 

of  the  physical  comfort  which  began  to  lap 

round    him,   was    making    itself  felt,    when 

238 


GUI    B  O  X  O  ? 


suddenly  the  dining-rooui  door  was  opened 
and  was  almost  literally  filled  with  the  tall 
iioure  of  a  man  who  reflected  in  his  kind 
good  face  the  same  jo^'fnl  expression 
of  agreeable  surprise  which  beamed  from 
Causton's  radiatinn;  countenance. 

Prince  Victor  of  Mecklenburg- Gotha  was 
a  man  of  colossal  stature,  nearly  seventy 
years  of  age.  He  w^as  over  six  feet  thre? 
inches  in  height,  and  proportionately  broad 
and  strong.  In  his  youth  he  must  have 
been  one  of  the  handsomest  men  in  Eng^land. 
Now  he  had  certainly  grown  too  heavy  and 
stout,  thoush  his  o-reat  height  saved  him 
from  the  a})pearance  of  obesity.  His  features 
had  also  lost  some  of  their  clear-cut  char- 
acter, a  loss  which  could  not  completely 
ol)literate  or  hide  the  native  distinction  of 
the  face.  His  hair  and  beard  were  now 
grey,  Init  they  still  showed  that  originally 
they  must  have  been  very  fair.     The  lead- 

inir   traits  of  the  man  Avere  a  fundamental 

239 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

bonhomie,  not  unmixed  A\itli  an  element  of 
humourous  shrewdness,  a  solid,  heavy,  and 
apparently  even,  slow  nature,  which,  how- 
ever, was  pervaded  and  retined  throughout 
by  a  delicacy  and  native  simplicity  and 
purity  which  so  often  accompany  the  more 
weighty  qualities  in  the  natures  of  big  men. 
What  made  him  a  unicjue  tigure  in  the 
London  world  was  this  mixture  of  the 
sportsmanlike  and  military  turn  of  his  nature 
and  manner  w^ith  the  softer  and  more  senti- 
mental German  side  ^vhich  was  hereditary  in 
himself,  and  so  marked  a  feature  in  his 
family.  He  had  left  his  German  home  at 
the  age  of  thirteen,  being  a  nephew  of  the 
Queen  of  England,  and  had  been  in  the 
P^nslish  service  ever  since,  tiofhtinii'  at  Inker- 
mann,  and  subsequently  commanding  several 
posts  in  the  empire.  He  had  always  l)een  a 
smart  soldier,  and  even  now  his  heart  was  in 
military  matters  ;    while  most  of  his  leisure 

time  was  taken   up  with  charitable  organisa- 

240 


C  U I    BONO? 


tions  of  which  he  was  chairman,  or,  at  all 
events,  an  active  member  of  the  committee. 
Some  matter  of  this  kind  had  hroug-ht  him  to 
town  on  the  present  occasion. 

"  I  am  indeed  o;lad  to  see  vou,"  he  said  to 
Causton,  shakino-  hands  and  biddino-  the 
young  man,  who  remained  standino-,  to  sit 
down  again.  "I  did  not  expect  to  tind  any- 
body here.  I  only  ran  up  to  town  on  some 
l)usiness  of  the  Soldiers'  and  Sailors*  Home. 
They  are  making  a  mess  of  their  aflairs,  and 
I  felt  bound  to  attend.  Yes,  thank  you,  the 
Princess  is  quite  well.  I  left  her  down  in 
Dorsetshire,  where  I  have  been  shooting  with 
my  brother-in-law.  I  return  there  to-morrow. 
But  where  have  you  Ijeen,  and  what  srreat 
discoveries  have  you  made  since  last  we 
met?" 

Having  seated  himself  at  the  small  tal)le 

beside  Causton  and  ordered  his  dinner,  he 

waited  to  hear  an  account  of  the  vouns:  man's 

work  and  recent  experiences. 

241 


THE  surfacp:  of  things 

But  this  time  Causton  could  not  gratify 
him  with  any  news  of  his  own  Avork  or  that 
of  his  colleagues,  as  he  had  so  often  done, 
delighted  to  find  an  intelligent  man,  busy  with 
occupations  so  dilferent  from  his  own,  in- 
terested in  his  studies.  This  feature  of 
eagerness  to  learn,  which  the  Germans  indi- 
cate so  happily  by  the  word  "Wissbegierde'" 
(in  contradistinction  to  curiosity,  "iVe«- 
gierde'"^,  was  another  of  his  most  striking 
traits. 

Without  wishing  to  lay  in  cheaply  a  large 

stock  of  information  to  be  doled  out  lightly 

on    suitable  occasions,  or  for  any  purposes 

of  ostentation,  —  in  fact,    with  no  ulterior 

aim, — all  sound   knowledge  and  the   work 

of  all  men  of  science,  letters,  and  arts  were 

to  him  of  superior  interest,  and  he  acquired 

such   information    with    ojenuine    gratitude. 

It  was  the  spirit  which  moved  his  ancestor, 

the   friend  and  pati-on  of  Goethe.     He  was 

always    on    the    alert    for    learning   in    any 

242 


C  U I    BONO? 


sphere.  When  in  Dublin  it  was  a  test 
question  with  him  })ut  to  every  one  who 
had  visited  that  town :  "  Have  you  ever 
been  to  see  Grubb's  workshops?"  Grubb 
was  the  famous  maker  of  mathematical  and 
physical  instruments  in  that  city.  '^No? 
My  dear  sir,  then  you  have  not  seen  one  of 
the  most  intensely  interesting  sights  of  Dub- 
lin." 

His  hospital  house,  and  his  excellent 
dinners  at  a  round  table,  prepared  by  a  real 
cordon  bleu,  brought  together  people  of  all 
callings  and  interests,  and  the  prevailing 
tone  of  kind  old  soldier's  hospitality  tended 
to  give  a  warm  and  homelike  character  to 
these  gatherings,  so  that  his  house  never 
became  a  salon  with  a  "precious  "  or  Bohe- 
mian touch. 

When   Causton  had  given   an   account  of 

himself,    and    was  just    thinking    of     some 

news  to  tell  his  old  friend,  the   door  opened 

with  an  abrupt   shove,  and  a   ruddy-faced, 

243 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

tall,  strong,  beardless  man  stepped  in,  who, 
looking  around  slowly,  manifested  clearly, 
but  with  less  eagerness  than  the  two  pre- 
vious guests,  his  pleasure  at  seeing  the  two 
diners  at  their  tables. 

He  bowed  to  the  Prince  and  nodded  to 
Causton,  and,  after  shaking  the  proffered 
hand,   said  : 

"What  a  beastly  hole  London  is  at  this 
time  of  the  year !  Nothing  would  keep  me 
here.  'Tis  only  two  hunters  I  am  after, 
and  old  screws  they  prove  to  be.  So  I  have 
lost  two  o-ood  days'  cubbino-.  But  I  think  I 
shall  go  down  to  Leicestershire  by  the  late 
train  to-night  to  catch  them  out  to-morrow. 
How  do  you  come  to  be  in  this  hole.  Sir, 
now?"  he  asked  the  Prince. 

"  I  also  have  some  business  ;   ])ut  I  don't 

agree  to  London  being  so  bad  now,"  replied 

the   Prince.       "  I    have   often    been   here  at 

this  time  of  the  year  and  I  have  found  it 

singularly  pleasant.     People  are  not  in  the 

244 


GUI    BONO  ? 


bustle  and  hurry  of  pleasure  or  work  as  in 
the  season,  and  one  really  o-ets  to  see  them 
quietly  and  to  know  them  better.  Besides, 
London  has  so  many  resources  in  the  way 
of  thino-s  to  hear,  see,  and  to  study,  which 
one  only  realises  properly  and  takes  In 
leisurely  and  fully  out  of  the  season." 

"  Well,  I  always  feel  lost  —  not  that  I  like 
it  much  in  the  season  either,"  said  the  new- 
comer. 

Draycott  Fieldino-  was  a  splendid  type  of 
the  master  of  foxhounds.  He  wa>s  a  true 
sportsman,  heart  and  soul,  and  put  serious 
energy  and  conscientious  work  into  this 
healthy  national  out-of-door  amusement  of 
old  England,  providing  pleasure  and  health 
for  a  large  numl)er  of  people  of  all  classes. 
He  was  not  the  man  of  leisure  who,  as  a 
rentier  in  other  countries,  dawdles  about  all 
day  long,  from  cafe  to  beer-house  or  club, 
from  a  lazy  town  life  to  a  still  nujre  idle 
existence  in  tlie  various   watering-places  of 


2-t5 


THE    SURFACE    OF     THINGS 

Germany  and  France  ;  but  "  what  his  hand 
found  to  do  he  did  it  with  his  mio-ht." 
Huntino-  hounds  was  what  he  had  found  to 
do.  He  knew  every  inch  of  the  country  he 
hunted,  all  the  theory  and  practice  of  wood- 
craft, all  about  horses  and  hounds.  Every 
one  of  his  own  horses  he  knew  thorouohly, 
and  every  hound  of  the  pack  as  well  as 
the  stud-groom  or  the  kennel-huntsman. 
He  had  once  oiven  Causton  a  olowino- 
account  of  his  new  hunting-box,  the  ideal 
of  houses  in  the  ideal  country.  "  Why," 
he  had  said,  "I  can  sit  in  my  kennels  and 
hear  the  choir  sing  —  even  the  sermon  — 
in  the  church." 

He  was  also  an  excellent  master  as  con- 
cerned his  "field"  :  always  jovial  and  friendly 
to  farmer-boy  and  to  peer,  interested  in  all 
who  rode  with  him,  in  their  affairs,  their 
families,  and  farms.  Courteous  and  kindly, 
l)ut  with  complete  control  over  the  varied 
mass  of  horsemen  and  horsewomen,  —  and 

24G 


CUT    BONO? 


a  timely  loss  of  temper  if  needed  to  keep 
them  from  riding  over  scent  or  hounds,  — 
he  was  certainly  not  made  for  town,  and 
he  was  performing  a  most  useful  function 
in  national  life  in  being  a  model  master 
of  hounds. 

The  conversation,  which  might  have  grown 
Horatian  in  the  comparison  of  town  and 
country  life,  was  cut  short  by  the  entrance 
of  another  member ;  and,  in  rapid  succes- 
sion, the  dining-room  door  was  opened  three 
times. 

First  came  Lord  Henry  Montfort,  then 
Dick  Howard,  and  then  young  Lord  Hough 
of  the  Guards.  The  first  was  a  short,  ruddy 
figure,  evidently  a  sailor.  He  was  an  ad- 
miral, just  then  not  in  commission,  an  excel- 
lent yachtsman,  who  had  returned  from 
Scotland,  where  he  had  l^een  cruising  ever 
since  the  Cowes  races.  The  second,  a  very 
neat,  slight,  pale  man  of  about  thirty-five, 

one  of  the  best-dressed  men  in  London,  was 

247 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

an  active  member  of  Parliament,  very  keen 
in  his  work  of  party  organisation.  The 
third  was  a  tall,  slim,  erect  young  man  with 
a  pink  and  white  boy's  face,  and  had  the 
unmistakable  bearing  of  the  guardsman. 

Shaking  hands  was  an  exceptional  form 
of  greeting  in  the  Club,  yet  came  quite 
naturally  to  the  three  first-comers,  because 
of  their  isolation  and  their  surprise  at  find- 
ing each  other.  The  others,  as  they  entered, 
upon  finding  three  members  dining  at  their 
tallies,  relapsed  into  their  customary  bow  to 
the  Prince  and  a  nod  to  Causton  and  Field- 
ing. They  each  accounted  for  their  being 
in  town  in  a  few  words  to  the  Prince,  and 
all  dined  in  good  humour  ])ehind  their  little 
tables. 

The  conversation  was  lively  and  general. 
But  at  times  it  would  break  u})  into  more 
intimate  talk,  especially  when  })ersonal 
news    concerning    friends    was     exchanged. 

Then  the  allusions  to  Freddie  and  Georofie, 

248 


GUI    BONO  ? 


with  the, natural  assumption  that  the  person 
was  intimately  known  to  all,  often  made  one 
like  Causton,  who  lived  in  many  sets  and 
had  interests  in  man}^  spheres,  feel  some- 
what out  of  it.  Still,  there  was  such  a 
vivid  interchange  of  good  spirits  and  such 
a  unity  of  atmosphere  around  the  six  that 
it  sounded  quite  natural  when  Prince  Victor 
suggested  that  they  should  do  something  in 
common,  and  spend  the  evening  together. 
Then  some  suggested  theatres ;  Ijut  upon 
sending  a  waiter  out  to  report  upon  the 
weather  the  answer  was,  "  pouring  with 
rain."  Another  suggested  a  rul)ber  of 
Avhist ;  but  it  was  not  accepted.  Though 
in  former  days  there  had  Ijeen  nuich  card- 
playing  in  the  Buckingham,  it  had  now 
entirely  dropped  out. 

"What  a  pity,"  said  the  Admiral,  "that 
the  old  bowling-alley  has  been  changed  into 
the  billiard-room  I  It  did  brino-  meml)er.s 
of  the   Clul)   toofether    in    comfortable    talk 


240 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

more  tluin  anything  else.  W'luit  fun  it 
was ! "  And  all  agreed  that  it  had  been 
a  real  feature  of  the  Clul),  when  all  its 
members  laughed  and  chatted  and  played  at 
a  game  which  gave  healthy  exercise  during 
their  London  eveninos. 

When  ])illiards  were  suggested  it  was 
objected  that  it  would  either  split  them 
up  or  concentrate  them  too  much  upon 
the  o-ame  itself. 

"I  have  a  suggestion,"  said  Prince  Victor. 
"  It  is  cold  and  rainy  out  :  let  us  convert  this 
into  a  small  house-party  of  friends  in  the 
country,  and  all  sit  before  the  tire  in  the 
upper  room  and  have  some  good  talk.  I 
know  Causton  here  can  tell  us  somethino- 
worth  listeninii;  to,  and  Howard  will  reveal 
to  us  all  the  political  secrets  of  the  day." 

This  proposition  was  accepted  with  accla- 
mation. 

"  Splendid,"  said  Howard.  "  The  Professor 

will  give  us  a  lecture." 

250 


GUI    BONO? 


Now,  Causton  knew  that  he  was  called  the 
Professor  by  his  worldly  friends,  when  speak- 
ino-  of  him  ;  ))ut  he  did  not  like  the  form 
or  the  substance  of  Howard's  remark.  He 
felt  his  profession  to  l)e  second  to  none  ;  l)ut 
to  ol)trude  it  in  ordinary  social  intercourse 
showed  a  want  of  tact.  Moreover,  the  very 
sound  and  the  hackneyed  associations  of  the 
term  "professor"  always  jarred  upon  him. 

Prince  Victor  must  have  felt  the  same  for 
his  special  friend,  and  this  sensitiveness  was 
perhaps  heightened  by  the  fact  that  he  had 
secretly  hoped  their  talk  before  the  tire 
would  turn  into  something  like  an  informal 
address  from  Causton,  and  that  his  thirst  for 
new  knowledge  would  be  gratified. 

There  was  a  touch  of  sharpness  in  his 
voice  when  he  said : 

"  I  am  sure  Causton  would  not  cast  his 
pearls  before  us.  We  should  be  nuich  more 
able  to  appreciate  a  rehearsal  of  your  elec- 
tioneering   address,^  which,    I    am    sure,    is 


251 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

giving  you  so  much  trouble.  I  think  you 
had  lietter  begin  with  that  as  a  preliminary 
canter  to  Causton's  race." 

Howard,  too,  felt  that  he  had  made  a  mis- 
take the  moment  he  had  spoken,  and  was 
sorry  for  it.  It  was  the  old  Eton  school- 
boy who  had  spoken  out  of  him.  In  reality 
he  was  above  makin«-  such  a  remark  and  had 
a  genuine  reward  for  Causton.  He  at  once 
said  : 

"  Causton  knows  that  I  am  not  worthy  to 
sit  at  his  feet.  Even  in  an  electioneering- 
address  or  a  speech  in  the  House  he  could 
beat  me.  I  wish  we  could  have  more  men 
like  him,  who  really  know  something,  in  the 
House.  The  few  we  have  lead  the  way 
even  in  practical  questions  far  renK^ved 
from  their  work." 

"Well,  let  us  go,"  said  Prince  Alctor. 

And  with  this  the  signal  was  given,  and 

the  six  rose  and  ascended  the  stairs  to  the 

upper  room,  where   a  fire   was   blazing  anil 

252 


GUI    B  O  X  O  ? 


a  sense  ut'  homelike  seclusion  prevailed. 
Large  easy-chairs  were  rolled  in  a  semi- 
circle round  the  tire,  the  Prince  seated 
himself  in  the  middle,  biddinii-  Causton  to 
sit  by  him,  and  the  others  grouped  round. 
Coffee  and  liqueurs  were  served,  cigars 
and  cigarettes  were  lit,  and  there  was  a 
moment  of  expectation  as  to  who  should 
begin.  When  neither  the  Prince  nor  Caus- 
ton began  to  talk  Fielding  helped  them  all 
out  bv  askino-  with  a  touch  of  hesitation  and 
shyness  : 

"  By  the  way,  Causton,  can  you  tell  me 
whv  they  are  makinir  all  this  fuss  about 
that  man  Hay  ward?  I  read  a  lot  about  it 
coming  up  in  the  train  this  afternoon." 

"Oh,  he  is  the  great  mathematician," 
Causton  answered.  "  Perhaps  the  greatest 
representative  of  ])ure  mathematics  in  Eu- 
rope at  this  moment :  and  they  have  been 
celebrating    the    fiftieth   anniversary   of  his 

work    as    a   professor    at    Cambridge.       It 

253 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

is  a  great  and  nol)le  life  that  he  has  lived, 
and  the  use  he  has  been  to  his  country  and 
to  the  world  makes  him  well  worthy  of  such 
})ul)lic  recognition. " 

"Well,  I  don't  mind  saying  that  I  am 
an  ignorant  })erson  and  have  shamefully 
neglected  the  o})portunities  of  education  at 
school  and  at  the  university,  and,  for  that, 
ever  since.  But  I  don't  know  what  the  use 
of  such  work  is  ;  I  don't  know  what  pure 
mathematics  is.  Is  there  an  impure  nuithe- 
niatics  ?  " 

"They — I  know  very  little  about  it  — 
distinguish  between  pure  and  applied 
mathematics,"  Causton  replied.  "  The  one 
is  what  you  AvoukI  call  more  practical ;  the 
other  is  purely  theorclical.  There  is  a  well- 
known  toast  of  the  famous  mathematician 
Gauss  at  a  scientific  dinner :  '  I  drink  to 
pure  mathematics,  the  only  science  which 
has  never  been  defiled  l)y  a  practical  appli- 
cation.' " 

254 


GUI    B  O  X  O  ? 


"  Exactly,"  said  Fielding,  more  confi- 
dently and  fluently,  having  brought  forward 
his  previous  questions  with  hesitation, 
"  that's  just  the  point  I  should  like  to  ask 
you,  and  I  have  never  yet  been  al»le  to  ask 
or  have  answered.  You  see,  I'm  a  dufter, 
and  I  know  you're  a  learned  man,  and  a 
swell,  and  all  that  kind  of  thing,  and  I  feel 
a  sneaking,  no,  a  straightforward  respect 
for  you.  I'm  really  afraid  of  you,  unless  I 
have  you  out  with  hounds,  and  a  good 
straight  man  across  country  you  are,  too  ; 
but  hano;  it,  I  can't  see  what's  the  use  of  all 
this  science  and  learning,  and  all  that  kind 
of  thing,  —  what's  the  good  of  it  V  I  know 
all  you  fellows  are  very  keen  al)out  it,  and 
you  think  it  good  for  humanity,  and  the  most 
important  thing,  and  all  that  kind  of  thing ; 
l)ut  why  are  you  so  keen  about  it,  and 
w^hat  are  you  and  we  the  better  for  it  ?  Now 
I  wish  you  would  kindly  explain  this  to  me, 
and  I  should  be  very  grateful.       I've   l)een 

255 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

waiting;  for  years  to  ask  il,  and  I'm  sure 
some  of  the  others  here  —  Now,  Harry,  you 
don't  need  to  look  shocked  a(  my  ignorance, 
for  you  know  you  don't  know  more  than  1 
do,  nor  do  you,  Hough  I  The  Prince  has 
got  a  touch  of  learning  about  him,  and  poli- 
ticians—  of  course  they  know  everything." 

Having  made  this,  for  him,  unusually  long 
speech,  he  looked  round  at  them  all,  then 
leaned  back  in  his  chair,  as  if  fatigued  from 
the  exertion,  and  then  continued  implor- 
ingly, "  Now  I  Avish  you  would  explain  that 
to  me,  Causton,  and  T  shall  have  spent  a 
useful  as  well  as  an  agreeable  evening." 

Prince  Victor  looked  with  some  eagerness 
to  Causton,  manifestly  pleased  at  the  turn 
which  liluff  Fielding-  had  given  to  the  con- 
versation,  and  all  eyes  were  turned  expect- 
antly at  him.  He  felt  forced  to  take  up  the 
matter  seriously ;  to  shirk  it  would  mean 
unkindness  and  affectation. 

He   felt  eml)arrassed  how  to  begin.     He 

25G 


cm    BONO? 


had  thought  and  talked  a  great  deal  on  this 
subject,  and  he  ought  to  have  been  well 
prepared  to  broach  it  now»  but,  perha})s, 
the  very  fact  of  his  having  thrashed  it  out 
so  often  and  so  thoroughly  made  it  all  the 
more  difficult  for  him  to  besfin.  He  had 
seen  it  from  so  many  sides  that  he  could 
not  readily  tind  one  point  of  departure.  A 
certain  amount  of  iirnorance  is  a  stinudus  to 
thought,  and  especially  to  exposition.  His 
first  answer  thus  partook  of  the  character 
of  a  question,  and  was  dictated  l)y  a  natural 
desire  to  steady  himself. 

"Your  (j[uestion,"  he  said,  "really  a])pea]s 
to  two  spheres,  the  personal  and  the  imper- 
sonal, and  I  hardly  know  which  to  deal  with 
first.  You  ask  why  I  or,  rather,  we  men  of 
science  and  letters  are  so  keen  about  our 
life-work,  and  then  you  ask  what  is  the  use 
of  such  eftbrt  and  accomplishment  to  the 
world  at  larffe." 

"  Isn't  that  really  one  and   the  same  (|ues- 

257 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

tion?  '"  Howard  here  cut  in.  "  Does  not  the 
general  utility  make  the  keenness  ?  or,  to  put 
it  differently,  would  you  he  so  keen  if  you 
were  not  convinced  of  the  proportionate 
utility? — would  you  be  keen  at  all,  if  you 
thought  your  effort  was  no  good  to  any- 
body?" 

"  Thank  you,  Howard,  that  puts  it  clearly. 
I  should  like  to  take  up  the  question  at  once 
where  you  have  fixed  it.  But  I  fear  it 
would  make  us  too  academical,  and  Avould 
lead  us  too  far  or  too  deeply  into  the  domain 
of  metaphysics,  ethics,  and  sociology.  "We 
should  have  to  define  '  use '  and  '  utility  '  and 
the  primary  motives  of  human  action,  and 
that  would  at  once  launch  us  into  the  funda- 
mental problems  of  ethics  :  Hedonism,  Utili- 
tarianism, Rational  and  Irrational  Egoism  — 
and  many  other  '  isms  '  which  I  wish  to 
avoid." 

"  Yes,  please  don't  do  that,"  said  Field- 

iuff,   "  or  I  shall  not  be  able  to  follow  vou, 

258 


cur  B  o  X  o  ? 


and  shall  shut  up  at  once.  That's  the  way 
most  of  you  people  cht)ke  me  ofl'  and  make 
me  feel  a  fool.  I  have  always  doubted 
whether  they  could  know  it  all  really  well, 
if  they  could  not  explain  a  thing  without 
their  philosophical  and  scientific  lingo  and 
slang  and  all  that  kind  of  thino-." 

"I  quite  agree  with  you,  Fielding,"  said 
the  Admiral.  "  I  often  say  to  naval  voung- 
sters  that  they  don't  really  knoM'  their  nau- 
tical work  until  thcv  can  2.0  throuiili  the 
whole  subject  without  using  a  single  nautical 
term,  and  can  make  it  clear  to  the  country- 
bred  landlul)ber." 

"AVell,  I'll  back  Causton  never  to  come 
the  scientilic  pedant  over  anyljody,"  said  the 
Prince.  "  That's  why  even  I  have  been  able 
to  learn  much  from  him.  Take  it  your  own 
pace,  Causton,  and  don't  mind  system." 

This  cross-tire  gave  the  "  Professor  '"  time 

to  survey  the  whole  field  of  the  problem,  and 

to  choose  his  general  line  of  action. 

259 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Causton  deliberately, 
leaning  back  in  his  chair,  looking  straight 
before  him  and  up  towards  the  mantelpiece 
with  compressed  eyes,  as  if  he  had  the  out- 
line plan  of  his  answer  written  there,  "  I  am 
keen  about  science,  because  I  cannot  help 
being  so.  Because  I  must  do  it,  because 
there  is  a  fundamental  instinct  driving  me 
on  to  such  eflbrt,  and  this  instinct  must  be 
satisfied.  We  study  and  think  and  strive 
after  knowledge  and  truth,  as  the  bird 
sings,  and  the  eagle  soars  —  and  the  hounds 
hunt  the  scent." 

"I'm  sure  I  don't  feel  that  in  the  same 
way,"  Fielding  put  in. 

"  Well,  you  feel  it  in  your  Avay,  and  I  shall 
convince  you  of  it  before  we  have  done.  Let 
me  remind  you  of  your  desire  to  know  some- 
thing of  the  very  subject  we  are  talking 
about  now,  and  which  started  this  conversa- 
tion.     I  could  show  you  " — 

"Don't  be  taken   into  a  side  channel  by 

260 


GUI    BONO? 


Fieldino:,"  said  the  Prince.  "We  have  all 
folloT\"ed  you  so  far.  Go  on  with  your 
'  instinct.'  How  can  you  tell  that  it  is  not  a 
1)ad  instinct  ?  Are  all  instincts  to  be  followed 
simply  liecause  they  are  instincts?  " 

"  All  instincts  implanted  in  man  are  to 
be  followed,  provided  they  are  not  detri- 
mental to  himself  or  to  society,  and  provided 
they  are  not  absolutely  or  relatively  useless. 
To  decide  about  the  two  first  need  not  srive 
us  so  much  trouble.  The  most  difficult  point 
to  decide  upon  is  the  relative  degree  of 
utility." 

The  vouno;  oruardsman  had  been  listenins; 
silently  until  now.  He  now  hazarded  a 
question,  blushins;  somewhat,  though  he 
spoke  firmly  and  clearly. 

"  Is  it  not  equally  difficult,   perhaps   one 

of  the  most  difficult  thino;s  in  life,  to  decide 

what    is    detrimental    to    one's    self  and   to 

society?"  he  asked,  turning  to  Causton. 

"  Of  course,  it  is  not  always  plain  sailing, 

261 


I 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THIxVGS 

and  I  know  you  are  touching  upon  one  of  the 
difficult  questions  of  practical  ethics  which  "  — 

"  Please  don't  go  ofi*  on  that  tack," 
objected  the  Prince,  "  or  we  shall  get  no 
forwarder  with  the  main  question." 

"  You  are  right,  Sir,  it  would  lead  us  too 
far  to  enter  upon  that  question.  But  Hough 
has  o-iven  me  a  timely  warnino;  not  to  use 
terms  loosely,  and  not  to  assume  that  fixed 
distinctions  can  readil}'  be  made  in  a  clear 
manner." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  and  then 
he  continued : 

"Well,  then,  let  it  be  admitted  that  the 
instincts  which  are  detrimental  to  one's  self 
or  to  society  at  large  lead  to  what  we  call 
vice.  The  hal)itual  folio wino;  of  an  instinct 
which  is  absolutely  useless  produces  what 
we  call  a  'hobby.'  When  this  instinctive 
energy  is  directed  towards  an  object  which 
is  relatively  useless  we  call  this  pursuit  a 
'fad.'" 

262 


GUI    BONO  ? 


"I  am  not  quite  satistieci  about  your  two 
last  distinctions,"  said  the  Prince.  '' Tlie 
first  is  quite  clear  for  the  practical  purposes 
of  our  discussion." 

"Exactly,"  Causton  continued  more  rap- 
idly. "As  T  said  before,  this  requires 
the  nicest  distinctions,  for  the  objects  and 
pursuits  which  become  hobbies  and  fads 
may  be  useful  at  times  and  when  followed 
under  certain  conditions  and  to  certain 
degrees.  It  is  the  question  of  inopportune- 
ness  and  exag-geration  Avliich  makes  them 
fads  and  hobbies.  What  is  a  legitimate 
pursuit  to  one  man  may  l)e  a  fad  or  a  hobbj^ 
to  another,  because  the  latter  is  not  called 
upon  to  devote  the  same  amount  of  energy 
to  such  a  pursuit,  and  has  really  other  voca- 
tions in  life. 

"  But  my  object  is  not  to  define  these 
different  groups  of  abnormal  or  condemnable 
pursuits  in  themselves.  I  merely  wanted  to 
point  out  that  there  are  instincts  which,  if 

263 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

followed,  lead  to  forms  of  moral  or  intellect- 
ual disease, —  namely,  those  which  are  harm- 
ful and  those  which  are  useless — nay,  even 
that  there  may  be  doubts  about  those  which 
tend  towards  olijects  which  are  comparatively 
useless.  If  we  are  clear  that  powerful  in- 
stincts in  us  are  not  of  this  kind  we  are 
justified  in  followino-  them,  nay,  in  strength- 
ening and  developing  such  instincts. 

"Now,  no  one  can  maintain  that  the  in- 
stinct for  knowledge,  for  the  apprehension 
of  truth,  is  either  unsocial  and  immoral  or 
useless.  I  am  sure  we  none  of  us  doubt 
that  it  is  most  highly  moral  and  usefid  —  in 
ftict,  indispensal)le  to  rational  and  sane  life, 
both  individual  and  collective,  in  larger  com- 
munities. Accurate  knowledge  is  at  the 
bottom  of  all  rational  and  practical  action. 
We  make  mistakes  and  fiiil  to  gain  the 
objects  we  strive  for  when  we  misapprehend 
the  nature  of  the  things  without,  our  relation 

to  them,  and  our  ])ower  over  them.     There- 

264 


GUI    BONO? 


fore  evervthino-  which  tends  to  streniithen, 
refine,  develop,  and  diversity  this  instinct  is 
of  srreatest  good  to  ourselves  and  to  human 
society.  Science  and  learnino-  are  the  purest 
and  most  complete  expression  of  this.  And 
therefore,  Fieldino-.  I  am  confirmed  in  fol- 
lowino-  this  instinct  —  which,  mind  vou,  in 
some  form  or  other  is  not  peculiar  to  me 
and  those  of  mv  class,  but  is  a  fundamental 
instinct  in  man  as  such." 

"Well,  I  must  say,  Causton,  you"d  make  a 
capital  lawyer.  I  had  to  follow  you  straight 
on  and  I  admit  all  that.  I  can  understand 
why  you  should  follow  it.  But  I  am  not  yet 
convinced  of  the  utility  of  oivino-  your  whole 
life  to  'pure  mathematics."  ]May  not  that 
be  what  you  call  '  a  fad,*  when  you  devote 
your  whole  life  to  it?  What's  the  good  of 
the  big  books  you  write  on  '  \nu'e  mathe- 
matics' beyond  satisfying  your  instinct  — 
which  I  admit  goes  for  something." 

"  Well,    I  am   bound   to  say,  you    would 

265 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

make  an  equally  good  lawyer,  Fielding," 
said  Causton  eagerly,  while  he  smiled  at  his 
jolly  friend.  "  You  have  just  hit  the  weak 
point. 

"  All  I  wished  to  show  so  for  was  that 
there  was  some  motive  in  us  for  o-oino-  in  for 
Science  and  Learning  as  we  do.  So  far  the 
only  use  would  l)e  in  satisfying  and  en- 
couraoino-  that  fundamental  instinct  in  us. 
That's  why  at  the  beginning  I  called  this  the 
personal  aspect  of  the  question.  Now  for 
the  impersonal  side  : 

"  You  ask  :  is  the  actual  work  produced, 
are  the  results,  the  tangible  eflects  that  arise 
when  we  follow  this  theoretical  instinct, 
useful?  What's  the  good  of  it,  what's  its 
use? 

"Now,  believe  me  when  I  say  that  it  is 
not  as  a  tricky  lawyer  who  merely  wants  to 
steal  a  march  upon  his  adversary  that  I  be- 
gin my  answer  by  another  question,  and  ask 
3^ou,    ■  A^Hiat's  the  use  of  anything  ? '     Has 

26C 


GUI    BONO? 


this  question  never  occurred  to  you? 
Have  you  never  felt  in  this  mood?" 

"By  Jove,  I  do  confess  it  has  occurred  to 
me.  I  do  feel  it  occasionally.  But  when  it 
comes  I  know  that  it  is  about  time  to  take  a 
pill." 

There  was  a  laugh,  not  only  because  of 
wdiat  Fielding  said,  but  also  because  of  his 
manner  in  saying  it.  There  was  a  jerk  of 
the  head,  and  a  kind  of  dogged  resolution  to 
admit  a  distasteful  truth  of  which  he  was  not 
at  all  proud.  But  Causton  continued  quite 
seriously  : 

"  Exactly,  and  you  are  right.  Because 
it  shows  that  something  is  out  of  order,  that 
you  are  not  a  normal  being,  in  perfect  har- 
monv  with  yourself  and  your  natural  sur- 
roundino-s.  We  men  of  science  are  all 
'  diseased  "  in  this  respect,  because  we  must 
often  call  in  question  what  others  do  natu- 
rall}'  and  spontane0|usly.  Excuse  me  for 
quoting     German,"     and,     turning    to    the 

267 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

Prince,  he  saidj  "  You  remember,  sir,  what 
Mephistopheles  says  to  the  young  student : 

"  '  Dann  lelirtt  man  Eiich  manchen  Tag^ 
Bass,  was  ihr  sonst  aiif  einen  Schlag 
Getriehen,  wie  Essen  und  Trinkenfrei, 
Bins  !  Zwei  '  Drei !  dazu  ndthig  sei. 

****** 
Der  Philosoph,  der  tritt  herein, 
Und  beiveiset  Euch  es  mitssf  so  sein  : 
Das  Ersf  war  so,  das  Ziveite  so, 
Und  drum  das  Dritf  und  Vierte  so  ; 
Und  wenn  das  Ersf  und  Zweit  nicht  war, 
Das  Dritf  imd  Viert  war  nimmermehr.' 

"  Reflection  kills  action,  and  we  are  liter- 
ally sicklied  o'er  with  the  pale  cast  of 
thought.  From  this  point  of  view  nothing 
is  natural  excepting  pure  animal  life,  and 
the  more  we  are  thoughtful,  the  more  we  are 
diseased.  What  does  Browning  make  Para- 
celsus say? 


'■'■ '  Mind  is  nothing  but  disease, 


And  natural  liealtli  is  ignorance.' 

"  But  on  this  ground  you  must  allow  me 

to    maintain    that    your    (juestion  as  to  the 

268 


cur    BONO? 


use  of  science  and  thought  is  indicative  of 
disease,  as  is  also  the  question  when  applied 
to  exertion  in  any  other  business  or  profes- 
sion, in  commerce,  in  the  law,  in  politics,  or 
in  hunting;.  The  ideal  existence  then  would 
not  be  even  the  animal,  it  would  be  pure 
veoetatino-  existence.  But,  after  all,  man  is 
a  conscious,  thinking  being ;  and  so  we  are 
right  in  in(|uiring  occasionally  into  the  use 
or  justitication  of  what  we  generally  do 
naturally,  without  further  thought  and  with 
spontaneity.  And  though  you  may  be  right, 
Fielding,  in  attributing  to  physical  derange- 
ment the  mood  which  led  you  to  doubt  that 
which  you  always  take  for  granted,  the 
question  remains  whether,  having  asked  it, 
you  could  then  give  yourself  a  satisfactory 
answer  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  could  not.  But  I  am  not 
one  of  those  thinking  fellows,  and  I  told  you 
that  m}^  education  was  neglected.  My  only 
answer  was  the  pill,  and  a  brisk  gallop  across 


269 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

country  that  generally  settled  it.  Have  you 
any  other  ?  " 

"Don't  you  think  that  that  is  simply 
suppressing  the  question,  as  a  man  may 
drown  worr}^  and  grief  in  drink  ? " 

"That  may  be  so,'^  said  Fielding.  "I 
really  consider  it  absurd  to  question  the  use 
of  what  we  are  all  agreed  upon  is  the  thing 
to  do,  and  therefore  "  — 

"Don't  go  on  about  that,  Causton  ;  give  us 
your  answer  if  you  have  any,"  said  the  Prince. 

"  All  I  am  driving  at,"  continued  Causton, 
"  is  that  we  must  arrive  at  this  apparently 
absurd  conclusion  that  very  little  that  we  do 
is  of  any  good  at  all  if  we  only  take  '  natural 
man'  as  the  subject  of  our  thought,  and  if 
we  only  consider  what  is  '  necessary  to 
existence  ; '  if  we  define  as  useful  —  as  is 
generally  done  in  public  discussions  of  this 
kind,  when  that  word  is  used  —  what  is  man- 
ifestly,  with    gross  manifestness,   necessary 

to  physical  subsistence.     We  then  return  to 

270 


GUI    BONO  ? 


brute  man —  prehistoric  man.  The  produc- 
tion and  preparation  of  food  be^^ond  what 
is  purely  necessary  to  keep  us  alive,  the 
elaboration  of  our  dwellinos  beyond  mere 
warmth  and  shelter,  all  the  progress  in  the 
direction  of  comfort  and  beauty,  the  endless 
manufacture  of  a  variety  of  articles  of  apparel 
and  personal  outfit,  the  development  of  our 
means  of  locomotion  and  communication, 
our  public  organisation  of  villages  aud 
towns,  our  theatres,  operas,  concert-rooms, 
museums,  our  libraries,  universities,  —  all 
that  is  summarised  under  the  term,  'civilisa- 
tion,'  —  cannot  lay  claim  to  the  term  '  useful." 
Xothing  is  useful  that  cannot  be  justified  in 
the  terms  of  the  prehistoric  cave-dweller, 
who  eats  roots  and  berries,  devours  the 
flesh  of  the  animals  he  kills,  gets  shelter  in 
his  cave  or  wattle-hut,  and  keeps  warm  in 
his  bearskin."' 

"  Are    you    not    overstating    your  case  ?  " 
Howard  here  put  in. 

271 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

"  Perhaps  I  aui,"  Causton  continued 
eagerly ;  "  but  I  do  not  think  it  is  as  absurd 
as  it  seems.  I  know  I  need  not  aj)oh)o;ise 
to  you,  Avhen  I  say  that  1  have  heard  political 
stump-speeches,  in  which  the  ai'guments 
glorifying  the  '  unusual  prosperity  of  one 
period,'  the  great  gain  and  use  of  one  insti- 
tution or  line  of  action,  as  contrasted  with 
the  luxury,  the  uselessness  of  other  pursuits 
and  organisations,  really  only  rested  upon 
the  absurd  premises  of  prehistoric  existence 
as  I  have  sketched  it  bluntly." 

"  Hear,  hear  I  "  said  the  Admiral,  who  was 
a  good  old  Tory,  and  merely  had  in  nund 
the  '  radical  '  speechmaker, 

"I  will  not  enter  upon  the  question 
whether  civilisation,  progress,  and  whatever 
else  we  may  call  it,  is  good  or  bad.  There 
are  some  developments  of  civilisation  which 
are,  as  doctors  would  call  it,  '  hypertro- 
phied '  and  are  diseased.  I  admit  this, 
however  much  I  niav  dislike  the  frame  of 

272 


GUI    BONO  ? 


mind  of  the  '  romanticists '  who  sing  of  the 
simplicity  of  nature,  and  wish  to  hark  1)ack 
to  the  simple  life,  the  brutality,  cruelty,  and 
misery  of  which  distance  and  years,  lending 
their  enchantment,  have  hidden  from  our 
view.  To  make  what  was  a  matter  of  luxury 
a  necessity  often  marks  one  of  the  main  steps 
in  civilisation.  I  simi)ly  say  that  we  are 
such  beings ;  that  we  are  civilised  ])eings, 
living  in  civilised  conmuinities.  All  the 
acquisitions  in  this  continuous  process  of 
civilisation  have  gone  into  our  blood,  they 
are  essential  parts  of  ourselves  —  they  are 
as  necessary  to  our  existence  as  eating  and 
drinking — we  cannot  exist  without  them. 
Take  the  simplest  and  most  uncultured  type 
of  person  in  our  community.  Have  you 
ever  entered  into  their  inner,  and  even 
outer,  lives  with  this  question  in  mind? 
Well,  then  :  There  may  be  people  who  have 
not  enough  to  eat.  Do  3^ou  think  so, 
Howard?" 

273 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

"I  am  afraid  there  are,"  said  Howard; 
"  but  there  are  fewer  cases  of  death  from 
starvation  in  Western  Europe  and  America 
than  people  realise." 

"Well,"  continued  Causton,  "that  cer- 
tainly ought  never  to  occur  in  a  civilised 
community.  But  take  the  life  of  the  poor- 
est farm-lal30urers  and  artisans,  and  ask  the 
question  :  How  much  of  their  conscious  en- 
deavour is  directed  tow^ards  providing  for 
mere  material  subsistence  of  the  prehistoric 
man-order?  ov,  rather,  inquire  into  the 
amount  of  thought  and  attention  which  is 
devoted  by  them  to  that  which  is  far  be- 
yond mere  material  subsistence,  and  how 
real  to  them  is  the  absolute  necessity  of 
those  ijoods  or  the  satisfaction  of  desires 
which  go  beyond  satiety,  warmth,  and  shelter. 
Most  of  their  eagerness  and  keenness  is 
directed  during  their  waking  life  towards 
desires  of  what  I  should  almost  like  to  call  an 

artistic  and  social  order,  towards  a  spiritual 

274 


GUI    BONO  ? 


article  which  cannot  be  expressed  in  l)read- 
stufFs  and  textile  fabrics  —  The  riband  on 
the  poor  dairy-maid's  hat,  the  social  aml)ition 
in  the  humblest  walk  of  life,  the  pleasures 
of  conversation  at  the  street  corner  or  in  the 
public  house,  —  pleasures  essentially  like 
those  we  are  enjoying  this  evening  here, — 
social  amliition,  the  regard  and  considera- 
tion of  their  neighbours,  the  school  treat,  the 
dance,  the  foot-ball  match,  the  show,  the 
prettiness  of  their  cottage  or  room,  one  pot 
or  kettle  instead  of  another,  as  they  prefer 
one  dress  or  hat  to  another,  —  all  that  really 
belongs  to  the  domain  of  art,  —  all  thino-s 
that  belong  to  the  region  of  ideas  and  not  of 
material  realities.  Now,  to  appreciate  how 
essential  these  spiritual  goods  are  to  the 
simplest  people  among  us,  how  intense  as 
motives  to  action  and  exertion  they  are  to 
a  great  number  of  people,  you  need  ])ut 
study  the  lists  of  suicides.  In  very  few 
cases  will  you  be  able  to  lind  actual  want  of 


275 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

the  '  prehistoric  '  necessaries  ;  while  in  most 
it  will  be  the  disappointment  in  the  'luxury' 
side  of  life,  in  the  feelings  that  respond  to 
this  'civilisation'  life,  l)uilt  up  out  of,  and 
resting  upon,  this  evolution  of  mind  and 
thought.  And  it  is  a  pretty  good  test  of 
the  reality  of  such  needs  to  tind  that  })eople 
give  up  their  lives  rather  than  forego  their 
satisfaction." 

Causton  paused  after  this  long  speech. 
Prince  Victor  looked  about  a})provingly  at 
the  others,  as  if  he  were  saying  to  them  : 
Did  I  not  tell  you  that  we  should  have  a 
good  talk  from  him?  There  was  a  certain 
sense  of  proprietorship  in  his  friend. 

"Still,"    said    Howard,    "if  we   recognise 

the  great  importance  wdiich  this  accumulated 

effort    has  in  shaping  civilisation,  how  can 

you  gain  a  practical  test  of  the  desirability 

of  each  mental  effort?     You  may  say  that 

'  whatever  is  fundamentally  necessary  to  this 

structure    called    civilisation    is    worth    en- 

276 


GUI    BONO  ? 


couraging.'  But  how  can  we  have  a  practi- 
cal test  with  regard  to  our  own  pursuits,  and 
how  about  science?  '" 

"Well,  I  say  that  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  science  and  art  are  thus  fundamentally 
necessary  to  civilisation.  In  fact,  they  are 
the  purest  and  most  direct  expression  of  all 
these  different  currents  which  make  up  the 
broad  stream  of  civilised  progress  ;  and  thus 
they  react  upon  civilisation,  lix  and  conlirm, 
advance  and  produce  it.  They  produce  that 
lasting  and  impersonal  tradition  which  t)inds 
us  all  too^ether,  which  belono-s  to  no  man 
alone,  which  we  cannot  infuse  by  heredit}' 
into  each  individual,  so  that  he  is  better 
than  his  progenitor  in  himself, — except  in 
so  far  as  he  is  living  in  it,  as  it  surrounds 
him  and  is  the  social,  intellectual,  and  politi- 
cal atmosphere  which  he  lireathes  from  his 
childhood  upwards.  From  this  we  derive 
the  education  which  makes  us  what  we  are, 
and  this  spiritual   body  politic  is  housed,  is 

277 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

materially  fixed,  in  our  schools  and  universi- 
ties, in  our  theatres  and  museums  and  libra- 
ries and  churches, — these  are  the  repositories 
of  our  spiritual  i>oods  and  life.  The  com- 
mon name  for  all  this  is  culture,  is  science, 
art,  religion,  morality,  and  law.  What  dis- 
tinguishes the  civilised  from  the  uncivilised, 
the  cultured  from  the  uncultured,  is  that 
they  have  developed  science,  the  higher 
striving  after  truth  ;  art,  all  the  manifesta- 
tions of  beauty  and  the  higher  pleasures 
which  are  not  selfish,  which  men  can  feel  in 
common ;  and  religion,  in  so  far  as  it  is  not 
tied  down  to  sensuous  rites  and  doo-mas,  — 
for  these  the  savage  has  as  well.  In  short, 
we  might  almost  say  that  the  more  real 
abstract  general  truths  and  needs  are  to  us, 
the  more  these  are  emancipated  from  the 
material  animal  feelings,  the  higher  are  we 
in  civilisation.  That  is  how  we  differ  from 
prehistoric  man." 

"  I    feel  all   you  say,   and  I  admire  your 

278 


GUI    BONO? 


exposition,"  said  Howard.  "  But  I  wish 
you  could  give  a  simpler  and  more  practical 
test  of  the  use  of  higher  pursuits  in  taking- 
more  detinite  instances.  You  have  shown 
us  that  there  is  a  fundamental  instinct  in  us 
which  makes  for  truth,  and  that  this  instinct 
is  justified  in  that  civilisation  is  l)ased  upon 
it.  But  can  vou  oive  anv  practical  test 
to  apply  to  our  pursuits  if  we  arc  in  doubt  ? 
How  are  we  to  tell  whether  any  pursuit  we 
follow  is  not  a  useless  hobby  or  a  fad?" 

"  I  can  only  say  that  a  pursuit  is  not  a 
hobby  if  we  can  discover  some  foundation 
for  it  in  something  rationally  useful,  in  the 
universal  and  general  taste  of  the  people 
among  whom  we  live  our  civilised  and  cult- 
ured life,  or  in  the  advancement  of  human- 
ity. If  one  of  us  were  the  only  man  who 
hunted  hounds,  it  would  be  a  hobby,  while 
now  it  is  not.  To  collect  penholders  is  a 
hobby :  not  so  pictures,  beetles,  or  butter- 
flies.    But  immediately,  or  only   remotely, 

279 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

you  must  be  able  to  recognise  that  there  is 
some  good  in  your  occupation." 

"I  have  felt  that,"  said  the  Admiral, 
"  about  yachting,  of  which  I  am  passionately 
fond.  I  used  to  sav  to  myself  that  it  trained 
sailors  and  advanced  the  art  of  sailing  and 
of  ship-building.  I  am  bound  to  say  I  can- 
not satisfy  myself  about  that  now  in  the 
days  when  sails  are  hardly  used  in  our 
navy." 

"  I  also  confess,"  said  Fielding,  "  that 
even  I,  in  some  rare  moments,  have  tried  to 
justify  hunting  on  the  ground  that  it  is  good 
for  the  health  of  many  hard-working  people, 
that  it  produces  courage  and  pluck,  and  that 
it  encourag-es  the  breedino-  of  good  horses 
in  the  country.  But  I  also  have  had  my 
doubts  about  these  justitications." 

"  It  appears  to  me  that  you  have  both  ig- 
nored the  chief  and  sufficient  justification  of 
such  pursuits  ;  namely,  the  legitimate  pleas- 
ure which  civilised  man  requires  as  nuich  as 


280 


cut    BOXO  ? 


the  other  o;oods  we  have  been  dwelling  upon. 
Sports  and  pastimes  which  are  not  bought 
at  the  expense  and  sacrifice  of  our  fellow- 
men  are  ennoblino-  thev  are  to  our  physical 
life  what  art,  science,  and  religion  are  to  our 
spiritual  life." 

"Well,  1  am  afraid  there  is  not  much 
to  be  said  in  favour  of  our  vocation  in  life," 
said  the  Prince,  turnino-  to  youno-  Lord 
Hough.  "  It  has  been  said  that  strong- 
armies  are  the  safeguards  of  peace.  But  I 
really  do  not  believe  it,  do  you?  " 

The  young  guardsman,  though  shy  and 
one  of  those  who,  under  ordinary  circum- 
stances, would  never  have  referred  to  his 
intimate  feelings  in  the  presence  of  strangers, 
was  affected  1)y  the  warm  and  serious  atmos- 
phere which  had  prevailed  that  evening,  and 
he  said  : 

"I  admit  frankly  that  I  have  many  mo- 
ments when  I  am  made  rather  miserable  by 
the  thought  that  soldiering  is  a   profession 

281 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

not  in  keeping  with  our  highest  ideas  and 
the  true  interests  of  humanity." 

"But,  ni}'  dear  George,"  Howard  said, 
turnino;  to  the  vouno-  officer,  "  vou  must 
take  yourself  as  a  member  of  the  coumuinity 
and  age  in  which  you  live,  just  as  much  as 
Causton  insisted  upon  our  being  civilised 
beings  with  the  needs  of  civilised  men  and 
not  of  prehistoric  half-animals.  We  do  not 
live  in  caves  :  but  we  also  do  not  live  in  the 
moon.  Not  only  in  the  Europe  of  to-day 
must  we  Englishmen  hold  our  position,  but 
we  even  have  before  us  a  great  vocation  in 
the  spread  of  civilisation  over  the  other  con- 
tinents and  hemispheres,  and  for  this  you 
are  the  vanguard,  —  we  shall  need  your 
strong  arm  foi-  many  decades,  perhaps  for 
centuries  for  this  great  task.  And  this  task, 
moreover,  is  one  which  will  well  agree  with 
Causton's  '  spread  of  civilisation,'  which  he 
makes  the  final  test  of  all  general  lines  of 
eftbrt." 

282 


GUI    BOXO  ? 


"  I  heartily  side  with  you,  Howard,"  said 
Causton.  "  You  remind  me  of  a  very  pathetic 
experience  of  mine,  when  an  okl  patriot  and 
statesman  of  one  of  the  smaller  countries  in 
the  southeast  of  Europe,  in  a  conversation 
on  patriotism  and  his  life-work,  said,  with 
tears  in  his  voice  :  '  Ah,  my  young  friend, 
you  are  happy,  because  you  are  an  English- 
man. You  need  never  feel  the  doubt  which 
crosses  our  minds  in  miserable  moments  — 
the  doubt,  namely,  whether  the  civilisation 
which  our  country  represents,  to  the  main- 
tenance of  which  we  are  devoting  our  lives, 
will  not  of  necessity  be  assimilated  in  the 
life  of  more  advanced  and  more  powerful 
nations.  You  can  feel  assured  that  the  more 
you  extend  the  power  of  ijour  country,  the 
more  have  you  advanced  the  general  progress 
of  humanitv.  For  \o\\.  are  the  son  of  a  areat 
nation,  in  the  very  forefront  of  civilisation, 
—  which  I  am  not.'" 

"That  is  really  touching,"  said  the  Prince. 

283 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

"  I  believe  I  know  the  man  you  are  referring 
to.  It  is  really  infinitely  sad  to  realise  that 
a  patriot  of  one  of  these  countries  must 
occasionally  feel  such  strong  doubts  as  to 
whether  it  is  worth  while  maintaining  a 
country,  a  language,  and  a  nationality  which 
will  and  ought  to  be  swallowed  up  some 
time  or  other  —  but,  my  dear  Causton,  we 
are  deviating  from  our  path.  Have  you 
nothing    more    to     say    about    the    use    of 


science  ? 


"  I  have,  Sir,  but  before  I  do  so  I  should 
like  to  repeat  an  interesting  confession  of  one 
of  my  friends  which  will  put  the  arguments 
in  favour  of  scientific  pursuits  in  a  more  per- 
sonal and  direct  manner.  He  is  a  colleague 
of  mine,  a  distinguished  archaeologist,  and 
teaches  his  subject  at  our  university.  Some 
time  ao;o  he  made  a  strikino-  discoverv,  one 
of  a  series  he  has  made  in  his  work.  He 
had  found   in  a  foreign   museum  a    marl)le 

head,   which,   ]\v   means   of  his  careful   and 

284 


CUI    BONO? 


systematic  observation  and  comparison  of 
works  of  ancient  art,  a  method  developed  in 
his  science  in  the  most  accurate  manner  ))y 
several  great  scholars,  he  at  once  recognised 
as  belonging  to  a  statue  l)y  Phidias  in 
London.  A  cast  of  the  head  was  made  for 
him  by  the  authorities  of  the  foreign  museum. 
He  took  it  to  London,  and  there,  to  his  own 
delight  and  that  of  all  people  who  love  the 
masterpieces  of  Greek  art,  when  he  tried 
this  head  on  the  neck  of  the  beautiful  female 
li"ure,  each  fracture  titted  exactlv.  The 
precious  work  of  art  from  the  age  of  Peri- 
cles, of  the  art  of  Phidias,  was  now  made 
complete,  after  it  had  remained  incomplete 
for  centuries. 

"  When  one  day  I  was  congratulating  him 
upon  this  discovery,  and  saying  to  him  how 
happy  must  have  been  that  moment,  and 
how  contented  he  must  be  with  the  success- 
ful pursuit  of  the  vocation  he  had  chosen  in 

life,  a  discussion  similar  to  the  one  we  are 

285 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

now  carrying  on  ensued,  and  in  it  he  made 
to  me  the  followimj;  confession  as  to  the 
light  in  which  at  various  moments  his  work 
appeared  to  him,  and  the  varying  degrees  of 
moral  justification  which  he  then  recognised 
as  underlying  his  efforts. 

"'When  I  am  quite  well  in  body  and 
mind,'  he  said,  '  I  work  on  with  delight  and 
vigour.  It  is  pure  joy  ;  I  never  question  the 
rightness  and  supreme  necessity  of  my  work 
at  all.  Nothing  in  this  world  appears  to  me 
of  greater  importance  for  me  to  work  at,  and 
I  am  almost  convinced  that  the  Avorld  could 
not  get  on  without  my  Avork.  Convinced  is 
not  the  right  word ;  for  I  do  not  think  about 
this  general  question  at  all.  But  at  the 
bottom  of  this  joyous  expenditure  of  creative 
energy  lies  this  conviction,  and  all  the 
justifications  which  I  must  now  enumerate. 
For,  as  my  moral  or  physical  health  sinks, 
one  of  them  after  the  other  drops  oif,  until  I 
am  left  with  but  the  feeble  support  of  the 

286 


GUI    BONO? 


last  lame  excuse  for  exertion  with  which  I 
limp  or  crawl  through  my  deep  dejection 
and  melancholy. 

" '  With  the  first  disturbance  of  moral  or 
physical  sanity,  I  begin  to  doul^t  and  (|uery. 
It  is  the  first  stage  of  the  disease  ;  but  I  am 
still  full  of  high  and  sound  spirits.  Besides 
all  the  others,  I  feel  one  supreme  motive  to 
action,  which  is  of  the  highest  religious 
order,  so  high  that  but  few  people  will  be 
able  to  understand  it,  and  still  fewer  can 
sympathise  with  it  and  be  moved  by  it. 

"'I  look  upon  my  individual  work  and 
creation  as  part  of  the  great  universe,  even 
beyond  humanity.  I  even  transcend  the 
merel}'  human  or  social  basis  of  ethics,  and 
I  feel  myself  in  communion  with  the  world  in 
all  its  infinite  vastness. 

"  '  I  know  this  sounds  like  mysticism,  but 
I  assure  you  it  is  both  clear  and  real  to  me. 
I  then  feel  that  if  there  were  in  this  world 

no  single  human  being  to  love  or  care  for, 

287 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

instruct  or  uimise,  my  work  would  still  bu 
necessary,  in  view  of  the  great  harmony  of 
things,  to  which  right  actions,  truth  dis- 
covered, and  beauty  formed  contril)ute,  as 
their  contraries  detract  from  it. 

"'Were  there  no  single  person  living,'  he 
continued,  with  growing  warmth  of  enthusi- 
asm, '  it  would  be  right,  nay,  necessary,  for 
me  to  discover  that  head  in  the  foreign 
museum.  That  head  lay  "pining"  there 
in  the  foreign  museum  for  years,  and  for 
centuries  under  the  earth  l)efore  it  was 
excavated,  until  /  came,  and  by  the  knowl- 
edge I  possessed  (which  means  the  accumu- 
lated effort  of  many  learned  men  estalilishing 
the  method,  as  well  as  my  years  of  prepara- 
tion and  education  in  acquiring  it  and  mak- 
ing it  my  own),  l)y  this  science  of  mine,  I 
joined  it  to  that  torso,  that  imjjerfect  frag- 
ment of  a  thing,  and  made  it  whole, — a 
living  work  of  art  fashioned  by  the  master 
genius,  whose  existence  two  thousand  years 

288 


GUI    BONO  ? 


ago  became  part  of  the  world's  richness  for 
all  time.  So  long  as  that  head  and  that 
torso  remained  separate  there  was  discord 
and  not  harmony  in  the  world's  great  Sym- 
phony—  the  world  was  so  much  the  poorer, 
so  much  the  less  ])eautiful  and  good.  I 
made  the  world  richer  by  my  act,  more  har- 
monious, more  beautiful ;  and  thus,  without 
self-love,  or  even  love  of  man,  I  proved  my 
love  of  God.  That  is  the  Auior  Dei.  Then 
we  are  enthusiastic  in  the  Greek  sense  of 
the  word  ;   we  are  full  of  God. 

"  '  In  the  next  stage,  when  my  spirits  flag 
somewhat  and  reflection  and  then  doubt 
begin  to  come  over  me,  I  cannot  feel  moved 
h\  this  Avidest  and  o-randest  assurance  of  the 
bearings  of  my  science.  But,  in  addition 
to  the  lower  justiflcations,  I  then  (piiet  my 
doubts  l)y  the  feeling  that  my  work  and  my 
teaching  are  one  element  in  the  establish- 
ment,  increase,  and  spread  of  what  we  call 

civilisation,  culture,  and  <reneral   education. 

280 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

Human  life  becomes  more  elevated  and  re- 
lined  by  the  simi  of  our  efforts.  Without 
good  archasologists,  and  the  consequent 
knowledge  of  the  past,  our  civilisation 
would  not  be  as  perfect  as  it  is. 

"  'Then,  when  I  sink  still  lower,  and  can 
no  longer  feel  this  more  general  conception 
of  human  life,  I  can  still  feel  that  the  effect 
upon  those  for  whom  I  write  and  those 
Avhom  I  teach  Avill  be  refinino-  and  will  brinjr 
true  Hellenism  (not  the  pseudo-Hellenism 
of  morally  degenerate  sciolists)  nearer  to 
them  ;  and  also  that  I  increase  their  capital 
of  refined  intellectual  enjoyment,  their  intel- 
lectual resources,  and  their  taste. 

"  '  And  when  I  am  lowest  of  all  I  say  to 
myself  that  I  am  making  good  })rofessional 
archa^oloo'ists  and  curators  of  museums,  am 
training  good  schoolmasters  for  our  }>ublic 
schools,  and  am  at  least  helping  these  young 
men  to  a  profession,  giving  them  the  means 
of  earnino-  a  livino-. 

290 


GUI    BONO  ? 


" '  When  I  have  arrived  at  that  staoe  of 
dejection  and  lowness  of  spirits  I  jog  on 
in  a  "  from  hand  to  mouth  "  existence  ;  but 
I  feel  that  the  sooner  I  can  get  a  good  holi- 
day and  some  rest,  the  better  it  will  be  for 
me.'  " 

The  Prince  was  perhaps  the  only  one  in 
the  party  who  could  really  follow  Causton  in 
his  sympathy  with  the  idealised  views  of  the 
scholar  whom  he  quoted.  Causton  himself 
knew  that  there  are  ])ut  few  people  to  whom 
this  creed  of  the  man  of  science  would  not 
appear  cant. 

"  I  am  much  impressed  with  your  friend's 
confession,"  said  the  Prince,  "but  you  have 
not  yet  touched  upon  the  more  direct  tests 
of  the  utility  of  science." 

"  There  are  two  more  points  I  should  like 
to  bring  home,  and  then  I  have  done,"  Caus- 
ton said. 

""I  have  hitherto  spoken  of  civilisation  in 

general  terms.     I    now  wish  only  to  say  a 

291 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

few  words  more  al)oiit  the  civilised  man  as 
such,  and  about  the  direct  use  of  science. 

"The  higher  pursuits  produce  the  type  of 
the  cultured  man.  He  is  Ijrought  up  in  the 
atmosphere  and  among  the  traditions  of  this 
higher  intellectual  life.  Even  if  he  has  for- 
gotten, or  never  learnt  in  detail,  each  de- 
partment of  such  higher  work,  he  is  imbued 
with  their  spirit.  In  conduct  and  manners 
a  certain  moral  and  social  atm()S})here,  in 
which  we  are  reared,  produces  what  we  call 
lireeding.  This  makes  us  recognise,  frater- 
nise, and  live  in  agreeable  peace  witli  a  well- 
bred  man,  even  thou<ji:h  he  l)e  in  a  flannel 
shirt,  furnishes  conmion  ground  upon  which 
we  all  stand :  the  delicate  knowlcdo;e  of 
where  to  stop,  —  tact,  in  short,  —  which  pro- 
duces the  sense  of  social  security  without 
the  danger  of  offending  taste  and  sensibility. 
So  there  is  intellectual  breeding,  the  assimi- 
lation of  these  higher  pursuits  upon  which  all 
our  school-teaching  and  reading  are  based." 

292 


GUI    BONO  ? 


But  it  was  here  that  a  certain  tact  on  his 

part  made   him    desist    from  entering  more 

minutely  into  the  details  of  his  description 

of  the   cultured,  the  educated  man.     For  he 

felt    that,   however    sensible,    however    well 

bred  and  refined  in  his  inner  nature  a  man 

like    Fieldino-    was,  he  was    lackino;  in  this 

"  intellectual  breedino^,"     He  was  g-oinff   to 

dwell  upon  the  common  language  among  all 

cultured  people,   intelligil^le    only  to  them, 

as  well-bred  people  understand  each  other's 

ways  and  manners,  views  about  living  and 

people  ;    but    he   felt  that  with  every  w^ord 

he    was    hittino-    Fieldino-.     Whv    should    a 

"  o-entleman  ""  not  be  defined  as  one  who,  be- 

sides  possessing  tact  and  breeding,  Avas  the 

man  of  the  world  who  stood  on  the  common 

ground  of  culture,  knew  works  that  all  had 

read    or    know    of,     historical     events    and 

achievements  in  the  world  of  thoiioht  which 

all  ought  to  know%  which  ought  to  be  part  of 

their  very  consciousness,  so  tha-t  they  under- 

293 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

stand  each  other  at  once,  —  ])ecause  they  pos- 
sess that  intellectual  l)reeding,  which  many 
good  fellows  of  the  Fielding  type  did  not 
possess,  and  which  would  make  it  impossible 
for  any  one  to  ask  the  question  which 
brought  about  this  discussion  on  the  use  of 
scientific  pursuits?  After  all,  was  it  not  a 
shame  that  oentlemen  of  s^reat  families,  with 
lono-  traditions  of  historic  culture,  with 
means  of  education,  the  best  a  great  country 
could  otier,  with  leisure  and  all  conditions 
favourable  to  the  fullest  cultivation  of  the 
mind,  should  dare  to  ask  such  a  question  at 
all? 

All  this  rapidly  flitted  thi'ough  Causton's 
mind,  and  he  then  continued  more  rapidly, 
having  lost  the  enthusiastic  pleasure  in  his 
talk  which  moved  him  l)efore  : 

"Now  for  the  last  justification  of  pure 
science.  I  have  kept  it  for  the  end,  because 
it  is  the  hackneyed  one  that  the  political 
stump-speakers  state,  overstate,  and  carica- 

294 


GUI    BONO? 


ture  :  How  can  we  tell  what  will  be  of  the 
greatest  use  ?  —  whether  the  pure  mathemat- 
ics which  are  opposed  to  practical  applica- 
tion may  not  be  the  means  of  the  oreatest  dis- 
covery in  the  material  and  practical  world? 
How  can  we  individual  workers  predict 
what  striking-  practical  application  may  be 
made  of  a  piece  of  theoretical  work  which 
was  purely  theoretical  in  our  mind  ;  to  which 
we  could  not  have  done  justice  had  we  pre- 
maturely thought  of  practical  ends?  We 
are  but  the  hewers  of  stones,  the  brickla^-ers, 
and  hod-carriers  to  the  great  edifice  of  hu- 
man progress.  We  do  not  know  which 
stone  may  be  the  cornerstone,  what  may  be 
the  cement  to  hold  together  the  l)locks  of 
knowledge.  Every  now  and  then  there 
comes  a  great  architect  or  some  ingenious 
carver  who  may  design  the  plan  of  a  build- 
incf,  or  carve  a  beautiful  ornament  for  our 
blocks.     But  any  stone  we  thus  fashion  may 

turn  out   the   cornerstone    to    an  edifice   of 

295 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

great  public  use,  a  keystone  to  the  great 
arch  of  elevating  culture." 

"Can  you  not  give  us  more  definite  in- 
stances ?"  asked  the  Prince. 

"They  abound.  I  hardly  need  refer  to 
them.  In  manufacture,  to  which  we  owe  our 
wealth,  in  mechanics  and  engineering,  in 
medicine,  in  all  practical  sciences,  the  pure 
and  theoretical  studies  such  as  mathematics, 
physics,  chemistry,  are  the  basis  upon  ^vhich 
the  most  practical  discoveries  rest.  Even 
the  '  chance  '  discover}^  about  which  so  nuicli 
noise  is  made  could  not  have  sprung  into 
existence  unless  the  seed  of  it  fell  upon  the 
fertile  ground  of  systematic  pure  science. 
The  Germans  know  what  they  are  about  when 
they  train  even  their  practical  manufacturing 
chemists  and  engineers  in  the  universities, 
where  they  are  well  grounded  in  the  purely 
theoretical  side  of  their  work  ;  and  we  are 
las'Sfino-  behind  in  this  country,  because  we 
are  too  'practical,'  too    empirical.      Every 

296 


GUI    BONO? 


one  of  you  must  know  instances  of  such 
great  and  direct  use  in  the  work  of  scientific 
men."     And  he  tui-ned  to  the  others. 

"  The  very  man  wdiose  jubilee  they  are  now 
celebrating,  and  about  whom  Fielding  in- 
quired, was  the  inventor  of  a  most  practical 
implement  without  which  we  sailors  could 
not  get  on,"  said  the  Admiral. 

"Why,  just  consider  the  infinite  possibil- 
ities in  the  discovery  of  the  Rontgen  rays 
for  surgery  and  medicine,  and  all  kinds  of 
practical  work,"  the  Prince  put  in. 

"What  is  more,"  said  Causton,  "I  am  told 
that  the  discoverv  of  aro-on  had  somethino- 
to  do  with  Rontgen's  discovery  of  the  'rays.' 
This  element  in  the  air,  which  Lord  Rayleigh 
and  Professor  Ramsay  discovered  last  year, 
made  a  great  stir.  But  I  remember  at  the 
time  hearing  the  question  asked  of  physi- 
cists, 'Of  what  use  argon  could  l)e?"  and 
they  answered,  that  they  could  ascribe  to  it 
no  appreciable  use  whatever.      And  now  vou 

297 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

see  how  it  may  be  connected  with  the  Ront- 
gen  ruys,  and  from  these  a  nprr  lie/ Jit  (lit- 
erally) is  thrown  upon  most  important 
domains.  The  whole  of  science  and  knowl- 
edo;e  is  one  chain  which  encircles  organised 
human  action  and  progress.  I  remember  a 
jj^reat  friend  of  mine,  noblest  of  men  and 
truest  of  scholars,  expending  much  energ}^, 
time,  and  ingenuity  in  distinguishing  be- 
tween the  ditferent  editions  of  earliest  printed 
l)ooks.  The  ditferent  forms  of  commas  in 
these  fonts  of  type  formed  an  important  item 
in  this  systematic  investigation  of  his.  How 
natural  to  say,  what  can  l)e  the  use  in  study- 
ing the  commas  in  a  tifteenth-century  book? 
But,  some  time  after  this,  a  most  important 
historical  question  — I  believe  about  the  dis- 
covery of  America  —  was  solved  b}"  means 
of  the  distinction  which  this  conscientious 
study  of  commas  established  beyond  a  doubt. 
I  must  not  go  on.     It  is  the  lowest  form  of 

justitication,  or  rather  it  is  that  form  which 

298 


GUI    BONO? 


at  once  appeals  to  the  lowest  motives  and 
intellects.  But  all  I  wish  to  say  is  that  con- 
scientious scientific  inquiry,  observation, 
and  study,  besides  producing  and  strength- 
enins"  methods  of  thoujjht  and  mental  disci- 
Inline,  may  l)e  left  to  themselves  as  regards 
their  further  use  ;  for  we  can  never  predict 
what  direct  and  immediate  use  they  maj" 
produce.  I  hope  this  will  satisfy  you, 
Fielding." 

And  with  this  Causton,  who  appeared 
fatigued  with  much  speaking,  showed  that 
he  had  come  to  the  end ;  and  there  were 
signs  of  rising  among  the  party.  But  the 
Prince  stopped  them  :  "  You  must  remain  a 
little  longer,"  he  said,  "  for  I  have  a  story 
to  tell  you  which  illustrates  well  the  subject 
we  have  been  discussing.  It  is  an  instance 
of  the  use  of  science  —  for  such  it  was  to  the 
poor  man — which  came  in  n  most  unex- 
pected and  striking  way  at  the  end  of  a  man's 

life." 

299 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 


They  all  settled  down  again,  and  Prince 
Victor  began  his  story  of  the  Flags  of 
Badajos  :  — 

"In  the  year  1800  or  18G1  Prince  Louis 
of  Hesse  Darmstadt  and  his  brother  Prince 
Henry  came  to  London  on  a  visit  to  the  Eng- 
lish Court.  This  Prince  Louis  subsequently 
married  Princess  Alice,  second  daughter 
of  the  Queen,  and  succeeded  his  uncle  as 
Grand  Duke  of  Hesse.  These  princes  had 
been  commissioned  l)v  their  uncle,  the  then 
reigning  Grand  Duke,  to  inquire  into  the 
whereabouts  of  the  colours  of  two  Hesse 
Darmstadt  regiments  which  had  been  taken 
by  the  British  at  the  captui-e  of  Badajos  in 
1812. 

"  It  appeared  that  tlie  discovery  of  these 
flags  was  a  matter  of  the  very  greatest  im- 
portance. Not  only  that  certain  facts  of 
history  with  regard  to  the  Peninsular  War 
would    thereby     be    established ;     but    the 

whole  fortunes  of  a  distinguished  fiimily,  and 

300 


GUI    BONO? 


certain  affairs  of  state  and  of  public  interest 
in  the  country,  depended  upon  the  fact 
whether  the  presence  of  these  two  regiments 
at  Badajos,  and,  in  consequence,  of  a  certain 
officer,  a  member  of  a  distinouislied  Hessian 
family,  could  thus  l^e  })roven  l)y  the  discovery 
of  their  flaos. 

"  AVhat  appealed  to  me  most  was  that  ap- 
parently the  honour  of  this  famil}'  had  been 
assailed,  and  that  a  blot  upon  the  reputation 
of  many  honoural)le  people  could  he  cleared 
away  after  many  years,  during  which  their 
enemies  had  cast  doubt  upon  them. 

"  The  two  princes  had  the  matter  much  at 
heart,  and  were  sent  to  me  l)y  the  Prince 
Consort  as  one  who  was  likely  to  assist 
them  in  their  search. 

"  Though  I  had  always  taken  a  dee})  inter- 
est in  the  military  history  of  these  wars,  and 
had  a  special  hobby  (excuse  the  word)  for 
flags,  1  was  not  aware  of  the  presence  of  two 

Darmstadt  regiments  at  Badajos,  nor  had  I 

301 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

ever    come   across  such  colours.      Thinkinir 

the  matter  over,  it  appeared  to  me  that  the 

mjst  likely  place  where  such  flags,  if  they 

existed,    would    be    deposited    was    Chelsea 

Hospital.      So  I  drove  my  guests  down  to 

Chelsea,  though  I  must  confess  I  thoug'ht  it 

a  wild-goose  chase. 

"  We  inspected  the  large  numlier  of  flags 

in  the  chapel  as  well  as  in  the  hall.     But  it 

was  impossi])le  to  recognise  anything  in  most 

of  them,  which  presented  simply  a  mass  of 

netting  with  a  few  patches  of  faded  colour  in 

worn  tissue  stuck  in  here  and  there.     It  was 

more    than   a    Chinese  puzzle    to  make  out 

anything  from  the  scanty  remains.     It  would 

have  required  a  great    knowledge  of  flags, 

and  a  synthetic  power,  to  restore  them  from 

such  slight  indications,  corresponding  to  the 

faculty  with  which  Cuvier  and  Owen  were 

credited  of  building  up  an  animal  out  of  a 

single  bone  of  its  skeleton. 

"  We  stood  there  helpless  ;   nor  could  the 

302 


C  U I    BONO? 


colour-sergeant    who    had    accompanied    us 
oive  anv  information. 

"  I  turned  to  him  with  some  irritation,  and 
said  :  '  Where  is  your  chief  ?  Is  there  no 
one  in  the  whole  of  this  l)lessed  place  who 
knows  an\i;hing  about  these  flags  ?  ' 

"'No,  Sir,'  he  said,  standing  to  order  and 
saluting,  '  there  is  nobody  here  who  can 
make  them  out/ 

"^Ye  were  just  turning  from  him  in  impa- 
tience and  disgust,  when  he  said : 

" '  I  l)eg  your  Highness's  pardon  ;  luit  I 
just  remember,  that  there  is  sonieliody  here 
who  knows  all  about  the  flags,  but — V)ut  — 
you  cannot  see  him." 

"'Why  not?  Tell  us  where  he  is,  and 
])ring  him  here  at  once,'  I  said  perempto- 
rily. 

"  '  He   can't   come  here.  Sir,  and  I  do  not 

think  that  you  can  even   see   him,  if  you  go 

to  him.     He  is  on   the  point  of  dying  this 

very  da  v.' 

303 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

"'  Who  is  he,  and  where  is  he?'    I  asked. 

" '  It  is  Colonel  Geoffiy,  Sh",  a  Captain  of 
Invalides,  and  ho  occupies  one  of  the  houses 
in  the  West  Court.' 

" '  Who  lives  with  him  ?  ' 

"'Miss  Gcoffry,  his  daughter,  Sir.' 

" '  Take  us  to  her,'  I  said. 

"'But,  I  l)eg  your  Highness's  ])ardon. 
Miss  Geotfry  is  nursing  her  father,  and  '  — 

"'Take  us  to  the  house,'  I  repeated,  and 
I  turned  to  the  door  of  the  chapel,  he  follow- 
ing us,  and  we  descended  the  stairs  into  the 
Centre  Court  facing  the  statue  of  Charles 
the  Second. 

"  The  sergeant  then  showed  the  way,  and 
we  turned  to  the  rio-ht,  throuoh  the  row  of 
buildings  on  the  w^est  side  of  the  court,  and 
entered  the  West  Court.  He  took  us  to  one 
of  the  one-storied  houses  occupied  by  offi- 
cers of  the  Invalides. 

"  '  Here,  take  my  card  in,  and  ask  for  Miss 

Geotfry.     Ask  her  whether  she  could  spare 

;304 


GUI    BONO  ? 


me  one  minute.  We  remain  out  here  until 
you  bring  the  answer.' 

"He  soon  returned,  followed  by  a  tall, 
slim  lady,  a  spinster,  and  still  not  an  old 
maid,  with  refined  features,  evidently  care- 
worn ;  but  with  a  noljle  peace  and  resigna- 
tion stamped  on  every  line,  which  told  of  a 
soul  mellowed  and  ennol^led,  but  never 
embittered,  by  years  of  quiet  sulfering  and 
privation. 

"  I  advanced  to  her  and  extended  my  hand, 
which  she  took  (I  can  feel  the  thin,  rctined 
hand  to  this  day)  and  curtsied,  while  I  said  : 

"'Miss  GeolFrv,  I  feel  the  ureatest  com- 

punction    in    intruding    upon    you    at    this 

moment.     I  know  of  the  bad  state  of  your 

father,  and  I  will  realise  your  own  anxiety. 

Forgive  me,  and  allow  me  to  put  before  you 

the  object  which  has  brought  me  here,  and 

then  you  will  judge  whether  we  can  see  or 

communicate  with  your  father  or  not.' 

"I  then  presented  her  to  my  guests,  and 

305 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

told  her  the  object  of  our  mission,  impress- 
ing upon  her  the  practical  importance  of  the 
information  contained  in  the  flag-s  if  iden- 
tified. 

"  I  had  hardly  mentioned  the  flags  when  a 
])lush  stole  over  her  pale  face  and  a  smile 
of  pleasure  gave  light  to  the  soft  and  serious 
expression  which  seemed  to  have  grown  into 
it,  so  as  never  to  leave  it  again. 

"'My  father  is,  as  you  may  know,  Sir,  at 
death's  door,  and  I  would  not  disturb  the 
peace  of  these  last  days  or  hours  for  any- 
thino;  on  earth.  But  I  lielieve  that  what 
brings  you  here  may  add  to  this  peace  and 
give  the  greatest  light  to  these  dark  hours  of 
his  —  greater,  purer,  and  more  intense  than 
your  Highness  or  anybody  can  possibly 
imagine.  I  have  hitherto  not  done  anything 
without  consulting  the  doctor.  But  I  feel 
assured  in  myself  that  I  may  take  this  in  my 
own  hands,  from  what  I  know  of  my  father, 
and  no  doctor  can  know  as  I  do,  and  I  can 

306 


GUI    BONO? 


promise  you,  Sir,  that,  should  you  not  he 
able  to  see  my  father,  I  shall  at  least  com- 
municate with  him  at  once  about  the  infor- 
mation you  require,  and  that  you  will  surely 
learn  all  you  desire  to  know.  Pray  come 
into  our  drawing-room.   Sir.' 

"  And  with  this  she  ushered  us  into  the 
low,  simply,  but  tastefully  furnished  and 
decorated  drawing-room  of  the  house,  and 
left  us  after  we  were  seated  there. 

"  She  did  not  give  us  much  time  to  admire 
the  spotless  cleanliness,  the  coseyand  home- 
like neatness,  the  taste  and  refinement  of 
the  furnishing  and  decoration,  with  whatever 
small  means  the  artistic  end  was  attained, 
and  the  sweet  flowers  abounding  in  the  low 
room,  for  she  returned  almost  immediately, 
with  a  flush  of  joy  in  her  face,  and  a  revived 
youthfulness  in  her  movements,  and  said, 
with  a  soft  voice  tremblino;  with  eagerness, 
almost  impatience  : 

" '  My  father  is  overjoyed  to  hear  of  your 

307 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

visit  and  its  object.  He  insists  upon  the 
honour  of  seeing  you  personally,  Sir ;  and, 
as  a  soldier,  he  hopes  you  will  forgive  the 
state  of  a  sick-room,  and  his  inability  to  do 
the  honours  properly.' 

"And  then  a  slight  hesitation  came  over 
her,  as  she  said  :  '  But  I  fear.  Sir,  I  should 
l)c  transgressing  all  the  injunctions  of  the 
})hysician  if  I  allowed  more  than  one  visitor 
at  a  time  —  though  I  know  how  highly 
honoured  my  father  would  be  to  receive 
such  distinguished  guests,'  and  she  turned 
and  bowed  gracefully  to  the  Princes. 

"  The  elder  of  the  guests  at  once  put  in 
that  he  was  very  comfortable  in  the  pretty 
drawing-room,  and,  tired  as  he  was  from 
walking  and  standing  about,  ho  hoped  he 
might  rest  there.  He  then  complimented 
her  on  the  prettiness  and  taste  of  the  room 
and  her  lovely  flowers. 

"She  then  led  me  into  the  room  of  her 
dying  father. 

308 


GUI    BONO  ? 


"  The  room  was  so  thickly  curtained  that 
I  could  not  at  first  distino-uish  anvthino- 
besides  the  white  mass  of  the  lied  and  the 
dark  outline  of  a  head  on  the  snow-white 
pillows. 

"'This  is  His  Hio-hness  Prince  Victor, 
dear  father,'  Miss  Geotfry  said. 

"'How  do  you  do,  Colonel  Geoft'ry,'  I 
said.  'I  am  much  honoured  to  make  your 
acquaintance,  though  sorry  not  to  find  you 
in  better  health.' 

"'I  am  only  sorry.  Sir,  not  to  be  a])le  to 
receive  you  more  fitting-ly.  May  I  have 
your  hand.   Sir?' 

"  I  advanced  in  the  direction  of  the  low, 
cavernous  voice,  and  my  eyes  becomino-  more 
accustomed  to  the  gloom,  I  could  see  the 
face,  haggard  and  colourless,  with  the  marks 
of  India  clearly  stamped  upon  it,  with  the 
dark,  glowing  eyes  in  their  sunken  orl)s, 
but  an  illumined  expression  of  mysterious 
joy  and  light  beaming  from  them. 


309 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

"  I  took  the  bony  and  hot  hand  in  mine. 
He  must  have  been  a  very  tall  man.  He 
was  emaciated  almost  to  a  skeleton. 

"'You  come  about  my  dear  flags,  Sir  — 
Oh,  this  is  the  happiest  moment  of  my  life  ! 
I  have  always  wished  to  meet  you,  Sir ;  for 
we  ouo;ht  to  have  been  old  friends.  We 
were  at  Inkermann  together  when  we  were 
mere  boys.  I  stood  five  paces  from  you 
when  that  shell  burst  behind  the  trenches, 
killed  three  men,  and  spared  you  and  me. 
But  then  I've  been  in  India  much,  and  never 
came  across  you  when  I  was  over  here,  and 
so  we've  never  met  since.  But  that  you 
should  come  before  I  am  gone,  to  inquire 
about  the  flags,  that  you  or  anybody  should 
be  really  interested  in  them,  that  my  infor- 
mation should  be  needed,  that  it  is  going  to 
be  of  real  use —  Oh,  it  is  the  happiest  mo- 
ment of  my  life  !  Sit  you  down,  Sir,  tell  me 
all    about    it,    and    what  you   want!  —  yes, 

dear,  I  know  I  ought  to  be  quiet ;    but  joy 

310 


GUI    BONO? 


will  not  kill,  and,  if  it  should,  it  is  the  best 
pilot  to  heaven.' 

"  Miss  Geoffry  had  placed  a  chair  beside 
the  bed,  and  I  sat  near  the  dying  officer, 
whose  hand  I  held.  His  voice  sounded 
hollow  ;  but  there  was  no  dilficulty  in  l)reath- 
ing.  Still,  he  paused  every  now  and  then  to 
collect  his  strength  as  he  spoke,  and  evi- 
dently was  straining  every  nerve  to  keep 
cahn  and  not  to  burst  forth  in  his  eagerness, 
which  mio-ht  have  killed  him  at  once. 

"I  repeated  to  him  the  incident  of  the 
visit  I  had  had,  of  the  important  object  for 
which  the  information  was  required,  and  the 
fruitlessness  of  our  inquiries  ;  and  I  again 
apologised  for  troul)ling  him,  as  I  Avas  told 
that  he  was  the  only  man  who  could  give 
the  needed  information. 

" '  Ah,  of  course  they  had  to  come  to  me 
now.  Thank  God  I  am  not  dead  yet ! '  and 
there  was  a  tone  of  triumphant  resentment 
in  his  voice.     '"Mad    Geoffry!     Flag-staff 

311 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

Geoffry  !  Maniac  about  colours,  poor  fellow  ! 
Touched  in  the  upper  story  !  Fools  away 
all  day  over  those  colours  and  thinks  he  is 
doing  serious  work  !  ...  As  if  it  could  be 
of  any  use  to  anybody !  "  That  was  the 
kind  of  thing  I  heard  them  mutter  and  say 
among  themselves,  when  they  smiled  com- 
passionately, if  not  contemptuously,  as  I 
passed  to  the  chapel  every  day  followed  by 
poor  old  one-legged  Stubbins.  He  was  an 
artillery  sergeant,  my  helpmate  and  secre- 
tary, who  grew  as  keen  over  the  work  as  I 
did,  and  was  laughed  at,  jeered  at,  more 
roughly  than  I  was,  by  his  rougher  com- 
panions. Oh,  if  only  he  were  alive,  poor 
old  soul,  with  the  faithfulness  of  a  Newfound- 
land dog,  —  to  have  had  this  moment  and  the 
joy  of  it ! 

" '  You  do  not  know,  Sir,  what  we  suffered 
from  the  ridicule  of  people  incapable  of  com- 
prehending our  work  or  of  feeling  our  enthu- 
siasm.     Oh,  I  nmst  not  talk  on  !     You  want 

312 


C  U  I    BONO? 


to  know  about  the  flao's,  and  if  1  talk  too 
much  it  may  be  too  late.' 

"  Andturnino-  to  his  dauo-hterhe  said,  with 
a  wonderfully  soft  voice,  every  touch  of  re- 
sentment having  left  it : 

" '  Go,  dearest  child  ;  in  my  room  on  the 
third  shelf  to  the  left  there  is  the  catalogue. 
It  will  be  the  fourth  volume.  Bring  it,  my 
dear.  She  always  believed  in  me  and  ray 
colours,'  he  added,  as  she  left  the  room. 

"And  then  he  continued  eagerly:  'Oh, 
they  were  the  one  consolation  of  a  spoilt 
life,  the  balm  upon  a  wounded  and  poisoned 
heart,  shrivelled  up  with  disappointment ' 
A  sad  and  hard  life  mine  has  been,  and  I 
am  glad  to  have  come  to  the  end  of  it,  Sir. 
With  an  unhappy  boyhood,  as  the  poor 
orphan  relation  who  had  to  be  provided  for, 
a  great  wave  of  hope  swept  over  me  at  the 
beginning  of  my  military  life  and  the  Crimean 
War.  My  imagination  was  fired  with  ambi- 
tion.    With  all  our  hardships  and  ]irivations 

313 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

there,  and  the  horror  of  slaughter  and 
butchery  in  a  young  heart,  that  was  the 
happiest  period  of  my  life  ;  because  there 
was  most  hope  in  it. 

"'Since  then  I  have  foug-ht  and  fought, 
if  not  with  the  enemy,  then  with  a  cruel 
climate  and  with  the  severest  blows  of  fate. 
Most  of  my  life  in  India.  Then  my  marriage 
to  that  angelic  woman  —  bless  her  sweet 
soul !  —  four  children  following  one  upon  an- 
other. Pinched  in  means,  tied,  even  during 
leave,  to  my  post  in  order  to  support  my 
growing  family.  And  the  cost  of  mainten- 
ance and  education,  and  —  the  doctor's  bills  ! 
But  all  of  no  avail.  First  she  was  taken 
from  me,  the  one  great  love  of  my  life.  But 
I  do  not  complain.  It  was  a  blessing  for 
her.  For  I  could  have  offered  her  nothins: 
but  continual  struo-o-le  and  sufferino;.  And 
then,  one  l)y  one,  my  three  children  died 
away,  just  when  they  were  hopeful  of  active 

and  independent  life  :   my  two  boys,  one  at 

314 


GUI    BONO? 


school  in  England,  the  other  at  sea  as  a 
midshipman,  and  my  eldest  daughter  at  the 
birth  of  her  first  child.  Mary  has  remained 
to  me,  the  sweet  and  patient  guardian  of  my 
weary  life,  the  patient  listener  to  my  griev- 
ances, the  blind  martyr  to  my  faults.  My 
only  fear  of  death  is  lest  she  should  be  un- 
cared  for.  K  you  can,  Sir,  help  her ;  but 
.   .   .  please  remember  that  she  is  proud  ! ' 

"  After  a  pause,  which  reverentially  I  did 
not  interrupt,  he  continued  : 

" '  And  the  worst  enemies  of  all  were  my 
wounded  pride  and  my  shattered  faith  in 
justice  and  human  kindness.  Many  years 
of  service  in  which  I  saw  much  fighting, 
slow  advancement,  others  passing  over  my 
bent  shoulders  to  distinction  and  eminence, 
and  nothing  but  my  many  wounds  to  show, 
which  I  was  too  proud  to  show  to  an  un- 
grateful country.  No  influence  at  home, 
forgotten    by  all.      "  Poor  Geoflry  !     Good 

soldier,  but  no  go,  slow  dog  I  " 

315 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 


"  '  Perhaps  they  were  right,  and  the  bitter- 
ness of  years  had  no  foundation,  no  justifi- 
cation. I  was  not  born  to  be  a  practical 
man,  a  man  of  action,  or  even  a  soldier  — 
thouo-h  I  thouo-ht  I  was  a  good  one.  I  was 
really  born  to  l^e  a  student,  a  scholar,  per- 
haps I  might  then  have  done  something  in 
the  world. 

" '  At  last,  pensioned  and  permanently 
invalided,  l)y  mere  fluke  of  good  fortune, 
through  one  kind  friend  whom  I  had  for- 
gotten and  who  emphatically  recalled  my 
long  service  to  the  authorities,  I  got  this 
berth  here.  But  when  I  came  my  heart  was 
eaten  out  with  disappointment  and  bitter- 
ness. 

"  '  So  I  would  stroll  about  these  grounds 
alone,  and  my  favorite  retreat  in  all  weathers 
was  the  hall  and  the  chapel ;  and  from  the 
very  first  the  tattered  and  neglected  colours 
fascinated  me  and  evoked  my  love,  my  rev- 
erence, and  my  deep,  almost  human,  sympa- 

316 


CUI    BONO  ? 


thy.  They  seemed  like  me,  the  forsaken 
children  of  un  ungrateful  country  —  they 
were  like  nie.  They  had  waved  hopefully 
in  the  forefront  of  battle,  and  had  been  car- 
ried away  l)y  the  conqueror  with  shouts  of 
wild  joy  and  victory.  Proudly  and  grate- 
fully had  they  been  })araded  on  the  return 
of  the,  victors.  And  here,  their  glorious 
days  forgotten,  they  had  been  stowed  away 
among  shades  of  decrepit  warriors,  uncared 
for,  dropping  sadly  their  miserable  stuff  and 
texture,  their  colour  fading  past  recogni- 
tion, until  they  became  nothing  but  common 
rags,  undistinguishable  from  their  discarded 
and  soiled  comrades  in  the  streets  and 
gutters. 

" '  And  my  heart  bled  for  these  forsaken 
ones.  My  eyes  dwelt  upon  them  with  love 
and  compassion  day  by  day.  But  self-pity 
was  the  strongest  element  and  admixture  in 
my  feelings  for  them.  They  were  but  the 
symbols  of  my  wasted  and  miserable    life. 

317 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

Gradually,  however,  their  own  life  and  soul, 
their  own  noble  selves,  began  to  manifest 
themselves  to  me  ;  myself  and  my  selfishness 
vanished ;  I  began  to  love  them  purely  for 
their  own  sakes  ;  I  lived  in  them  —  I  forgot 
myself,  and  they  made  me  forget  my  suf- 
ferings. Nay,  they  became  the  joy  of  my 
latter  days.  And  I  vowed  that  I  would 
be  their  champion,  that  I  would  reinstate 
them  in  their  birthright,  and  restore  them 
for  all  ages  to  the  glory  which  was  ever 
living  in  them,  though  they  appeared  but 
common  rags. 

" '  But  here  again  I  met  with  difficulties 
and  vexation.  The  authorities,  with  all 
their  red  tape,  had  to  be  won  by  much  dis- 
heartening effort  to  allow  me  to  work  at 
them.  Delays  and  petitions  no  end,  until  I 
at  last  was  entrusted  with  the  care  of  what 
others  spurned  and  neglected.  It  is  a  small 
matter  hardly  worth  mentioning :  but  when 
once    I  had   fought   through   the  obstacles, 

318 


GUI    BONO? 


and  got  permission  to  repair  and  catalogue 
the  colours,  there  was  no  appropriation 
made  for  the  materials  of  work.  Herein 
Mary  was  my  true  helper  and  a.ssistant. 
She  selected  and  prepared  the  materials  for 
restoration — or  rather  conservation. 

" '  And  then  began  our  work,  which  spread 
over  years.  First  there  was  the  restoration 
and  preservation  of  the  colours  themselves. 

"  '  With  greatest  care  and  delicacy  the  rot- 
ting and  crumbling  bits  of  textile  had  to 
be  cautiously  collected,  and  the  right  place 
in  the  whole  design  given  them ;  then  they 
were  fixed  upon  the  cord  netting  which 
Mary  had  selected  as  the  l)est  material  to 
preserve  them  and  not  to  interfere  with  the 
effect  of  the  genuine  remains.  We  had  long 
discussions  and  most  serious  talks  on  the 
"  Principles  of  Restoration  "  :  how  we  could 
reverentially  preserve,  and  still  interfere  to 
the  smallest  possible  degree  with,  the  pre- 
cious original  document.     In  this  handiwork 

319 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 


we  were  joined  by  Stubbins,  who  became  my 
assistant,  companion,  and  friend  from  that 
moment.  He  at  first  became  attached 
to  me  because  I  showed  him  some  slight 
attention  and  kindness ;  then,  no  doubt, 
he  felt  the  affinity  with  his  own  fate.  He, 
too,  had  had  a  wife  and  children  whom 
he  had  lost  while  in  the  service  of  his 
country.  He,  too,  had  not  got  advancement 
and  the  cross,  when  a  less  worthy  comrade 
had  got  them.  He  was  my  Ijrother  in 
suftering.  And  thus,  through  personal 
atiection,  he  joined  in  my  work  and  became 
my  helper,  a  most  skilful,  intelligent,  and 
untiring  helper;  and  he  became  imbued 
with  the  same  enthusiasm  for  the  colours 
which  moved  me.  His  life  as  well  as  mine, 
from  that  moment,  was  filled  with  the  flags, 
and  drew  sustenance  from  their  tattered 
shreds  of  glory. 

"'But   then   came    the    difficult    task    of 
identification,  which  led  us  far  afield.     The 


320 


CUI    BONO? 


colours  in  themselves  were  almost  all  of 
them  unrecognisable ;  and  no  record  exist- 
ino-,  even  when  their  colour  and  desii>n  were 
traced  and  made  out,  they  were  not  yet 
identified  as  regards  their  country,  their 
regiment,  and  the  occasion  of  their  capture. 
And  so  beo-an  a  vast  amount  of  reading 
and  research  :  military  histories,  stories  of 
campaigns,  memoirs  of  regiments ;  nay,  old 
records,  and  even  manuscripts ;  constant 
pilgrimages  to  the  British  Museum,  even 
invasions  into  the  sacred  archives  of  the 
Record  Oifice.  Herein  my  daughter  was 
my  greatest  helper,  especially  as,  knowing 
foreign  languages,  she  could  take  the  depart- 
ment of  foreign  literature.  You  can  hardly 
realise  how  far  a  small  insignificant  point 
relating  to  the  arms  on  a  flao;  or  an  inci- 
dent  in  a  l)attle,  led  us  afield.  There  we 
would  sit  and  read  through  volumes,  far 
removed    in    their  main  import    from    the 

flag  or  the  arms,  to  settle  our  point.     And 

321 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

the  volumes  of  notes  we  collected !  Why, 
there  is  material  in  them  for  many  tomes  of 
military  history,  biography,  geography  and 
topography,  heraldry,  and  military  antiqui- 
ties. The  great  life  of  the  past,  the  passions 
and  struirsfles  of  nations,  emanated  from 
these  tattered  rags,  and  spread  their  bright 
spiritual  wings  round  our  lives. 

" '  And  the  pleasant  evenings  when  we 
three  would  sit  before  the  fire  in  our  draw- 
ing-room, Mary  and  I  with  our  tea,  and 
dear  old  Stubbins  with  his  glass  of  grog ; 
and  either  she  or  I  would  alternately  read 
and  take  notes  !  Then  we  would  study  and 
discuss  together,  steeped  in  history,  full  of 
the  knowledge  of  the  past ;  and  our  flags 
would  l)e  familiarly  referred  to  l)y  the  ab- 
breviated names  we  had  given  them :  red 
Waterloo,  left-corner  Sebastopol,  blue-eyed 
Vittoria,  white-faced  Alma,  and  so  on. 

" '  Then    finally    came  the  work   of  cata- 

loGfuino-    and   Avhat    I    called    restoring,   for 

322 


GUI    BONO? 


the  careful  drawings  which  I  made  of  each 
flag  were  the  accurate  reproductions  of  the 
remnants,  which  remained  religiously  intact, 
made  complete  by  the  information  we  had 
amassed  from  all  quarters.  The  drawings  are 
the  true  restorations,  and  you  will  find  them 
all  in  the  volumes  of  my  catalogue.  Then, 
unravelling  the  tangled  material  of  notes,  I 
accompanied  each  drawing  in  the  catalogue 
with  a  concise  account  of  the  capture,  the 
history  of  the  war,  and  of  the  regiment  to 
which  the  fiag  belonged,  and  incidental  notes 
of  interest.  The  difficulty  was  not  to  give 
too  much. 

"'I  recommended  to  the  authorities,  and 
pressed  them  hard  with  my  request,  that 
from  these  drawings  new  flags  should  be 
made,  representing  each  flag  as  it  was  when 
used  in  battle,  and  that  these  should  be 
placed  beside  each  tattered  colours  in  chapel 
and  hall ;  so  that  everybody  could  recognise 
the  flag,  and  could  at  the  same  time  realise 

323 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

the  venerable  life  and  .story  of  the  actual 
trophy.  But  though  1  importuned  them 
much,  I  did  not  succeed.  Perhaps,  Sir,  you 
may  use  your  influence  and  carry  out  this 
pet  plan  of  mine  for  a  living  military 
museum  in  this  home  of  ours. 

"'Well,  Sir,  you  can  imagine  how  all  this 
filled  my  life.  It  gave  new  interest  and 
vigour  to  my  invalid  years.  Since  I  began 
it  not  a  moment  of  loneliness  or  weariness 
have  I  felt,  and  —  even  the  bitterness  and 
disappointment  left  me,  and  I  was  contented 
to  live  in  my  real  tasks  which  I  fidfillcd 
daily. 

"'And  above  all,  there  was  the  glorious 
consciousness  of  fulfilliuii"  a  «Teat  vocation. 
Here  was  work  done,  a  creation  put  into 
the  world,  which,  without  me,  would  have 
been  lost.  Providence  needed  my  hand  to 
do  this  work  — 

"  '  "  Not  Goil  himself  could  do  man's  best 
Without  best  men  to  help  him." 

32't 


en    BONO? 


"  '  The  world  was  the  richer  for  the  truth 
saved,  the  facts  and  their  spirit,  the  life  of 
the  past  in  its  present  remains,  saved  for  all 
times,  capable  of  transmission  and  perpetu- 
ation through  ni}'  catalogue,  my  honest  life- 
eftbrt.  This  was  as  real  an  achievement  as 
any  battle  won  and  blood  spilt.  I  was  of 
some  real  use  at  the  end  of  my  crippled  life, 
and  this  filled  me  with  a  sincere  and  gen- 
uine self-esteem  and  pride,  so  that  the  neg- 
lect and  ridicule"of  all  about  me  passed  from 
me  without  etfect  upon  my  soul.  The  work 
was  there ;  I  had  si:iven  it  to  the  world,  to 
God,  and  the  blindness  and  ignorance  of 
those    about  me  could  not  touch  me. 

"  '  Let  them  wonder  jestingly  what  "Flag- 
staff Geoffry "  was  al)Out  when  he  trotted 
on  with  one-leo'ged  Stubbins  to  work  at 
these  colours  !  Let  them  think  me  cracked 
in  the  upper  story ;  I  felt  secure  in  myself 
of  the   sanity,  the    absolute    rightness   and 

goodness  of  my  work  for  the  welfare  of  my 

32r> 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

country  and  of  the  world,  —  1  felt  it  was  not 
wasted,  as  my  life  here  had  not  ))een  an 
idle  or  useless  vesetatino-. 

"  '  But  I  must  add  that  during  moments  of 
low  health,  and,  in  consequence,  low  spirits, 
while  admitting  to  myself  that  the  work  was 
elevating  and  ennobling  to  me,  that  it  was 
moral  and  pure  and  disinterested  in  its 
spirit,  that  the  results  oftered,  and  the  effect 
of  the  example  upon  those  who  knew  of 
it,  were  elevating  to  all,  I  still  had  rare 
moments  of  painful  doubts,  as  to  the  use, 
the  tangible  utility,  of  so  much  toil.  I  was 
longing  for  a  proof,  almost  praying  to  God 
for  a  miraculous  testimony  of  the  profit  and 
value  of  his  humble  servant's  work. 

"  '  And  now,  when  I  am  at  the  gates  of 
death,  this  testimony  has  come.  There  is 
real  tangible  use  of  my  long  labour ;  use 
which  even  the  coarse  and  gross  minded  who 
scoffed  at  me  will  comprehend  and  admit ! 
This,  Sir,  is  the  final  climax  ;  it  is  the  grcat- 

32G 


GUI    BONO  ? 


est  and  happiest  moment  of  my  life,  and  I 
shall  die  in  purest  peace  and  join  m}-  be- 
loved ones.' 

"  He  stopped  talking  and  sank  back  with 
exhaustion  on  his  pillow.  Marj',  who  had 
been  standino-  with  the  book,  without  inter- 
rupting  her  father  during  most  of  his  fervent 
words,  rushed  forward  and  bent  over  him 
with  anxiety.  I,  too,  feared  it  might  be  the 
end,  and  that  the  excitement  had  been  too 
much  for  him.  But  he  revived,  gazed  at 
his  daughter,  and  said,  smiling  sweetly, 
'  Oh,  my  dear  child,  I  forgot  you.  How 
can  1  leave  you  !  ' 

"And  then,  'Oh,  yqs,'  he  said,  'I  am 
forgetting  the  very  purpose  of  your  High- 
ness's  visit.  Have  you  got  the  book, 
Mary?  Well,  Badajos, — No.  12,  about 
page  32.' 

"Miss  Geoifry  turned  over  the  pages. 

"  '  Yes,  here  it  is,  father.     E.  14.' 

327 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

"'You  will  find  the  flags  on  the  rii;ht 
hand  as  you  enter  the  chapel,  about 
the  middle  of  the  room,  the  third  row 
from  ))elow.  They  have  a  brass  L  on  the 
top  of  the  flagstaff.  You  will  have  to  send 
for  the  ladder.' 

"  I  took  the  dying  man's  hand,  and 
thanked  him.  I  could  hardly  speak  for 
emotion,  and  nearly  broke  down. 

"My  guests  had,  no  doubt,  been  impa- 
tient durino;  their  loni*-  w%ait  in  the  drawin^f- 
room. 

"  So  we  hurried  to  them  and  to  the  chapel  ; 
the  ladder  was  brought ;  and  there  we 
found  two  flags  surmounted  by  Ihe  double 
L  and  the  Landsfrave's  crown. 

"  The  important  question  was  solved. 

"  Colonel  Geoflry  died  shortly  after  this. 

"  His  daughter  is    quite  a  friend    of  my 

wife's,  who  often  sees  her.     She  is  a  secretary 

of  the  Soldiers'  Widows'  Home. 

"I  told  this  story  to  the  Prince  Consort, 

328 


CUT    BONO? 


who  bought  for  a  fair  and  adequate  sum  the 
manuscript  from  the  daughter,  and  it  is  now 
deposited  in  the  Royal  Library  of  Windsor 
Castle,  where  it  is  one  of  the  treasui'es  of 
national  history." 

The  Prince  had  finished  his  story.  It  had 
moved  the  whole  party  to  silence.  It  was 
some  time  before  any  one  spoke,  and  then  it 
was  Causton  who  at  last  said  : 

"  Thank  you  warmly.  Sir,  for  that  beauti- 
ful and  touching  story.  It  has  more  fully 
illustrated  what  I  meant  to  say,  has  brought 
it  more  directly  to  our  hearts  and  to  our 
minds,  to  our  hearts  and  therefore  to  our 
minds,  I  should  say,  than  all  learned 
disquisitions  could    have    done." 

And,  as  they  broke  up,  Howard  said  : 

"  It  has  been  a  remarkable  evening, 
very  pleasant  and  highly  useful  and  profit- 
able." 


329 


THE    SURFACE    OF    THINGS 

"  Damn  profit  and  use  !  "  Fielding  said. 
"We  have  had  a  delightful  time,  without 
harming  anybody ;  and  that,  in  itself,  is 
improving   enough !  " 


330 


date  stamped  below 


.i*?iJUit{^ 


ffm  ID  URC 

FFB    7  1981'' 


3m-2,'45(3232) 


1158  00661    5370 


w\ 


s^   641  So.    ■» 
Grand  Ave.  o 

13 


ANGELESJ" 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    000  367  423 


